Within You Without You
by Kris6
Summary: Post- "Sexy", Santana falls back into her cruel heartless persona, cutting off Brittany and New Directions and hiding behind the familiar title of Head Cheerio. She's on top of the world…and beginning to unravel. Santana-centric. REPOST
1. Back on Top

**Within You Without You (REPOSTED see End Notes or Chapter 16)**

**Disclaimer**: _Glee_ doesn't belong to me. If it was, then this is how I would have wanted it to play out.

**Spoilers!**: Everything up to "Sexy" (with minor changes – see **A/N**) for now. There will be elements of subsequent episodes in future chapters, but I'll include spoiler warnings as needed.

**Summary**: Post- "Sexy", Santana falls back into her cruel heartless persona, cutting off Brittany and New Directions and hiding behind the familiar title of Head Cheerio. She's on top of the world…and beginning to unravel. Santana-centric. REPOST

**Pairings**: Starts as cannon except Santana and Sam are _**not**_ together. Future Pezsky friendship (Santana/Karofsky). Brittana endgame.

**Warnings**: General warnings include swearing and angst (which will gradually progress from 'mild' to 'severe' throughout the story). Hints at an eating disorder. Future warnings will be listed as needed.

**A/N**: Santana, Brittany and Quinn quit the Cheerios before Regionals but the squad still qualified to compete in the State Championship.

**A/N 2**: This was the first thing I started to work on for _Glee_ and this first chapter is actually a combination of two story ideas I had at the time. Forgive any awkward characterization there may be in the first chapter or so as I was just getting used to writing them. Now, read on…

* * *

**Chapter One: Back on Top**

The only two people that know the story of Santana's emotional hallway confession – and subsequent rejection – are Brittany and Santana, of course. Then again, it's not like anyone that knew the girls would be the least bit surprised by the declarations of love. Them not immediately jumping into each other's arms and living happily ever after, on the other hand, certainly would be a source of epic, Brittany-grade confusion.

However, all of that being said, no one knew exactly what happened between the girls after they performed _Landslide_ with Miss Holliday. So, as everyone filed into the choir room before their first class for an 'emergency' meeting no one noticed Santana's absence until Mr. Schuester came in and announced that the Latina had quit the glee club the previous afternoon. Despite the numerous inquiries, he couldn't tell them why she quit since she didn't even give him a reason herself. All eyes shot to Brittany, everyone quite aware of the irony of the spacey blonde being the only person with the answers for once. For her part, Brittany stared mournfully at her untied shoelaces refusing to meet anyone's gaze. No one had the heart to voice their questions at the sight of the girl barely holding back tears. They all just assumed that Santana had done something to upset the girl. It's not like it would be out of character for the brunette to do something like that.

As shocked as they were by the news of the Latina's departure from the group, the biggest bombshell wasn't dropped until moments after the group exited the choir room. The entrance doors swing open and a collective gasp escapes the members of New Directions before they can disperse into the crowd to get to their first class. They aren't the only ones in the hallway to have a particularly adverse reaction as several other students (and a particularly disturbing number of faculty members) begin to scatter and/or cower behind lockers, trash bins, other students, et cetera.

Santana Lopez has always managed to instill a high level of fear in the hearts and minds of those at McKinley High, though never more so than when she's prowled the halls in the armor of a Cheerios uniform and letterman jacket. The last month without the quick-tempered Latina on the squad had led to a sense of relief and safety among the faculty and students as well as the slow process of trying to move on from the tyrannical reign of the Latina. Unfortunately they became complacent and let their guard down which is why no one was prepared when, much to their horror, Santana entered the building donning her much feared Cheerios uniform, tight ponytail high on her head, and trademark bitch-face. The latter, while not an official part of the Cheerios uniform, is still all the more intimidating when in the presence of one. Cranking the level of abject terror and panic all the way up to DEFCON 1 was the ominous presence of a red slushy in the hands of said entity…the sound of someone beginning to cry broke the disturbing silence.

It is at this point, when everyone has their wide and terrified eyes trained on her, that Santana Lopez realized how much she missed that. After making sure to pause dramatically as she surveyed the devastation her mere presence had already caused, she began to make her way down the hall with an almost predatory air about her. Finding the one person that had yet to acknowledge her – a girl obliviously listening to her iPod as she dug through her locker, probably a Freshman – Santana stalked over to her prey before dumping the slushy over her head…for maximum coverage of course. Making sure to shake out the excess first, Santana then casually sauntered over to the trash bin by the door to the choir room where the Glee members were still standing, mouths agape. She made sure to pin them to their spots with her usual smug smirk, but this one was different because it was accompanied by an unquestionably unsettling glint in her eyes that was unfamiliar and sinister enough to send chills down their spines.

Brittany gripped the handles of Artie's wheelchair hard enough to turn her knuckles white. It was all she could do to keep the tears from spilling over. Santana couldn't help but think: _Goddamn I missed this._

That was a little over a week ago.

* * *

The students at McKinley High have been on edge since Santana Lopez reclaimed her position as captain of the Cheerios. Having gone nearly a month without anyone being slushied, Santana has seemingly made it her goal to single-handedly make up for that in the last eight days.

Will Schuester is mortified when he enters the choir room on Tuesday afternoon. Sitting before him are eleven very colorful students with varying degrees of anger and/or misery plastered over their features…along with the sticky, corn-syrupy mess of different colored slushies. Brittany, the only dry one of the group, still manages to look more miserable than any of the others.

"Satan is out of control!" Mercedes is the first to speak, gesticulating wildly as she explains everyone's state.

"_**Santana**_ did this to all of you?" He questions, willing himself to at least pretend that he didn't think the girl was capable of it…and hating himself a little for not having to think about who Mercedes meant when she said 'Satan'.

Finn scoffs a little. "Not personally, but it's still her fault. She's somehow managed to out-bitch herself," he shakes his head in disbelief.

"How the _**hell**_ did she even get Sue to let her back on the squad?" Quinn snaps, infuriated.

"Did you want back on too?" Brittany inquires randomly.

The former Head Cheerio opens and closes her mouth for a moment. "No! It was a rhetorical question, Brittany," she barks indignantly, realizing her mistake only when it's too late.

"That's not very nice, Quinn," the dim blonde frowns, completely misinterpreting the word 'rhetorical'.

"Shut up," the shorter girl growls in frustration at the other blonde.

"Quinn, it's just Brittany," Tina says slowly and in a soothing tone in an attempt to get her to calm down and remember who she's talking to.

"So what? She's not allowed to be mute for almost a week and then start making those stupid comments again out of nowhere. She's the _**only**_ one of us that has escaped that bitch's wrath this week and she won't tell us why!" Quinn shouts. "Brittany, what happened?" She demands more than asks, trying to ignore the stab of guilt in her chest when the other girl flinches.

Brittany remembers every detail vividly. It's one of a handful of memories that she's able to recall perfectly. Not surprisingly, all of the other ones also seem to prominently feature her best friend (_former_, she reminds herself as she holds back the tears). She can remember what they both were wearing, how she spent the first moments staring at each other deeply inhaling the other girl's scent rather than fully paying attention to her, the look of love and desperation and vulnerability in the brunette's eyes as she was pouring her heart out. The way she felt like flying or singing or dancing or _**something**_ when she was hearing the girl she's loved since Kindergarten _**finally**_ admit to returning those feelings. How both of them seemed to break when Brittany remembered that she had Artie and Santana realized that Brittany wasn't just going to break up with him. That nothing could have prepared her for how much it hurt when Santana pushed her away when she tried to put her arms around her.

Santana always welcomed her hugs and Brittany never realized that she needed to be able to wrap her arms around the quietly sensitive Latina just as much as Santana secretly _**needed**_ her to do it too. In that moment, Brittany stared into those deep brown eyes that she spent years memorizing every fleck of gold, trace of emotion, and flash of insecurity and she watched helplessly as all of that love and warmth drained out of them. Those once familiar eyes suddenly were as cold and hard as she's heard people accuse the other girl of being in the past, but she's never believed it possible until now. Now Brittany felt like she finally understood why people were intimidated by the girl that's always been by her side. She finally _**got it**_ because now she was clearly looking into the eyes of some stranger. It was almost like-

"Santana's gone," Brittany whispers sadly. "She's like a pod person and I don't know who she is anymore," she continues, mostly to herself.

The whole group spends several moments gawking at the other girl in astonishment. "I kind of wish Santana was here now so that she could translate that," Puck says after trying, and failing, to figure out how Brittany's thought processes could possibly spew out that explanation.

"I broke her," Brittany quietly adds, mostly talking to just herself, but somehow explaining her earlier remarks as well.

"Funny, Britt," Mercedes snorts in amusement.

"And I can't fix her because I don't know how. Santana's the one that always fixes everything, especially the things **_I_ **break...like the microwave that one time," she continues sullenly.

Even without the overprotective Latina faithfully watching over Brittany, the rest of the Glee kids can't find it in them to laugh at the girl because, whether they like it or not, what Brittany just said almost made sense. No one may believe her when she says that Santana is broken and she's the reason, but they can at least respect her feelings.

"You couldn't hurt her if you tried, Britt," Artie tries to comfort her by rubbing her back but she doesn't say anything because she knows better.

* * *

**Meanwhile**

Santana has her steely gaze fixed on the other Cheerios before her as she scrutinizes their performance. Everything from her rigid stance to her arms folded across her chest to the unpleasant sneer twisting at her lips gives away how displeased she is with them. Her simmering rage finally boils over and, seemingly without warning, she breaks her position and kicks over the Gatorade cooler (filled with Master Cleanse, of course) with a furious grunt. The pyramid of startled girls collapses.

"What the hell was _**that**_?" The Latina screeches at the pile of limbs in front of her.

Tired of the never-ending onslaught of abuse since Santana was reinstated as Head Cheerio a week ago, one of the girls disentangles herself and tries to come to their defense. "We were _**flawless**_ until you-"

"Stacy, you were _**barely**_ holding yourself and your team up with your flabby arms so you can just shut up. Kelsey, your fat ass is threatening to break this team. Five laps," Santana calls to the girl in question.

"But-"

"And _**now** _the rest of the squad has to join you. Everyone thank Kelsey for needing to drag you down with her whining," Santana interrupts the other girls' protest and everyone groans in response to their continuing punishment.

"Ugh, come on," one of the other girls groans to her teammates as she finally gets to her feet.

"Hey, you think _**this**_ is hard, try giving yourself a root canal using nothing but a pair of nail clippers and a back-hoe! _**That's**_ hard!" Santana barks, wondering when Coach started rubbing off so much on her. The other Cheerios take pause at her last comment and shoot her a mix of disturbed and intrigued looks. "Hit the track!" She snaps after several moments of their gawping. They don't need any further instructions before tiredly making their way to the track.

As Santana watches the cheerleaders running their laps with a hawk-like intensity, she can feel someone approaching her from behind. She doesn't have to turn around to know that it's Sue Sylvester and she can't even bring herself to care because she's not going to pretend like she's afraid of her anymore. The Latina continues to stand stalk-still with her arms folded across her chest as she waits for the woman to say something, her demeanor exuding indifference.

"What, pray tell, did I just witness?" Sue questions calmly as she moves to stand next to her Head Cheerio, mirroring the shorter girl's stance.

"The Cheerios barely placed at Regionals last month after we quit the squad. Quinn was too soft on them before we left and they're obviously out of shape. I'm making sure they don't embarrass the school, themselves, you _**or**_ me when we compete at State this weekend. I _**will**_ win Nationals again," the Latina explains with a chillingly unruffled tone.

"I am deeply offended by the implication that you thought I exercised poor judgment in naming Quinn Fabray Head Cheerio over you not once, but twice…However, I must concede that _**you**_ were the captain when we won Nationals last year and the two of you were on equal footing as mere peons when we won the year before," Sue responds in that half-thoughtful, half-condescending way she occasionally defaults into using.

"Having her briefly usurp _**my**_ rightful position helped give me a better sense of perspective on my own leadership skills," Santana replies blandly, being somewhat honest while also pandering to the imposing woman's ego.

The coach is silent for several long moments, studying the 16 year old next to her. "You are a ruthless, manipulative, cold-hearted temptress with a delightfully sadistic sense of humor and an admirable penchant for crushing other people's spirits with your words," she observes objectively without sounding the least bit judgmental or insulting.

"It's a gift," the Latina retorts, smirking when one of the girls drops on the track, laying on her back and staring at the sky completely exhausted.

"Lopez, you and I are a lot alike. You're the closest thing I have to actual offspring and I must say if I hadn't had my tear ducts removed last year I might be crying right now," Sue informs the girl in her typically dry tone.

Santana casts a brief side-eye of disbelief in her direction, a ghost of a smile hinting over her features for a fraction of a moment before it's gone. "Thanks Coach," she replies, not willing to take the other woman's words completely to heart because of how easily Sue has switched loyalties in the past.

"As hard as this may be for you to accept, my Puerto Rican surrogate daughter," Sue begins, exaggerating her affected accent and overemphasizing the rolled 'r's in 'Puerto Rican', "I knew you were going to be a force to be reckoned with from the moment I first saw you. And when I was recruiting from your middle school three years ago and saw you carelessly shoving people out of your way, I knew I was right," she finishes, a nostalgic smile on her face at the thought of the terror-stricken children.

"This has _**officially**_ become creepy and uncomfortable," Santana deadpans.

"For a while there I was concerned that I was wrong and that you really _**were** _just a promiscuous psychopath with dark and disturbing lesbiatronic tendencies-"

"'Lesbiatronic' isn't a word," the Cheerio cuts in irritably…and is promptly ignored.

"-but you've redeemed yourself and proven to be better than I could've hoped. You finally shook off those two barnacles you called 'friends' and came to your senses and left the glee club," the taller of the pair finishes as though never interrupted.

"Is that all or was there a more specific reason why you're over here?" Santana finally asks after a moment of silence, further proving her point about no longer being afraid of the Cheerio coach.

Sue Sylvester eyes the teen carefully, waiting for the girl to flinch or break eye contact first, but she maintains steady eye contact without a sign of apprehension. "I hope Tweedledum picking that defective Transformer over you last week taught you a lesson about expressing your feelings, let alone showing others that you even _**have**_ them. Those glee club losers will all putrefy here in this pit of a town but _**you**_ will get out. _**You**_ are better than _**them**_. Emotions only get in the way," she offers sternly.

Santana stares hard at the older woman, taking in her words before offering a barely-there nod. "Duly noted," she assures the coach of her understanding despite sounding completely detached.

"Good practice today," Sue congratulates her and, coming from her, this is the highest possible praise one could ever hope to get. She wordlessly takes her leave knowing that there isn't anything else left to say.

Returning her gaze to the pack of Cheerios, Santana heaves a sigh of disappointment before reaching down and picking up the bull horn by her feet. "I am sick of looking at _**all**_ of you. You reek of failure and the stench is threatening to kill the grass on the field. Hit the showers!" She barks at the group, dropping the horn to her side for a moment before lifting it back up. "And for the love of all that is good and pure in this world would someone _**please**_ peel Nicole's unconscious body off the pavement and get her to the nurse before she sticks to the asphalt!" She throws in as a bit of an afterthought.

Smirking in satisfaction when the girls scramble to help their teammate, none of them wanting to go straight to the locker room and risk running into their brutal team captain, Santana briskly turns around, the pleats of her Cheerios skirt flapping at the move, as she makes her way back to the main building. She has no intention of leaving anytime soon as she is merely changing out of her uniform into something more appropriate for working out. Her immediate plans consist of heading to the Cheerios' gym by their locker room and working out there in private. Not wanting to step foot in her cold and empty house any time soon and no longer having her best friend in her life has afforded the Latina a lot of extra time on her hands that she thinks could best be used to get herself back in top form.

While changing out of her Cheerios uniform, Santana can't help but catch her reflection in one of the mirrors on the wall and she frowns at what she sees. She is only _**slightly**_ agitated by the fact that she's down a cup size since one of the stipulations Sue put on her reinstatement as team captain was to have her boob job reversed. However, her biggest concern is how she's not nearly as toned as she was before temporarily quitting the team a month ago. Placing a hand over her lower stomach only validates her suspicions that her abs have lost a lot of their former definition. So, after pulling on her gray tank top and black yoga pants, Santana grudgingly grabs a bottle of Sue Sylvester's Master Cleanse out of her locker before making her way to the gym.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**The Next Day**

Just like any other day, Santana Lopez is on a warpath. Today, however, she is feeling even more abrasive and cruel than usual…which is saying a lot. Yesterday after practice she spent hours in the gym before calling it a night and, out of sheer dehydration, she unthinkingly chugged the whole bottle of Sue's toxic concoction on the drive home. As a result, she got less than two hours of sleep because she spent most of her night with her head in the toilet throwing up food she could've sworn she'd eaten _**months**_ ago. By the time she was finished, she wasn't even vomiting anymore and she'd been reduced to simply dry-heaving. Yet, somehow, Santana came in to school looking as impeccable as always without a hair out of place or dark circles under her eyes marring her complexion. Santana _**looked**_ perfect, but at the cost of being an unholy terror to anyone that crossed her line of sight.

So, out of nothing more than the pure unadulterated desire to spread her misery, she picks up a blue slushy on her way to class vowing to hurl its contents on the first person she sees when she enters the main hallway. Pushing through the doors, her eyes sparkle with malicious delight as she immediately spots her target.

"Karofsky," Santana calmly says to get the other boy's attention and when he turns to face the much smaller cheerleader, she throws the corn syrupy blue slushy all over him. As if in slow motion, the slushy arches in the air and splashes him in the face and all over his red and white letterman jacket, no doubt staining it. A hush comes over everyone in the hallway as they wait for all hell to break loose. David Karofsky's face drips with the thick liquid and his mouth hangs open incredulously as he stares at the girl that _**dared**_ do this to him.

"Wha-?" Is all he can verbalize before she continues to surprise him by turning her cup upside down and shaking it to completely empty it of its contents…making sure to do so right over his clean white sneakers before nonchalantly dropping the cup at his feet.

"Hockey fucking sucks," she shrugs her explanation as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. His mouth works up and down several times, but he is unable to form any words. A smug grin slowly works its way onto her features then offers a tauntingly girlish wave wiggling just the tips of her fingers before turning on her heel and flouncing off with a bounce in her step.

All eyes are on the jock as everyone waits with baited breath to see how he will react. David's face reddens as he becomes exponentially more enraged and humiliated as the shock wears off. "Lopez!" He roars at the casually retreating Cheerio.

The other girl spins around to face the imposing figure fuming down the hall, unconcerned with whatever he is about to say or do. "The blue is a nice addition. Red, white and blue. Very patriotic," she snarks and waits a beat before turning back around and continuing on her way.

Once again Karofsky is dumbstruck, along with everyone else who witnessed the interaction. He is only able to regain full functioning after the Latina has disappeared…and he's no longer able to take his aggression out on her. So, in true David Karofsky fashion, he grabs the closest freshman and shoves him into a nearby trashcan before stalking off down the hall to his first class, silencing those whispering around him with a glare as he goes.

* * *

AP Physics is Brittany's second class of the day and she is blankly staring down at her test, her frustration nearly bringing her to tears because she _**knows**_ that she knows this, but she just can't put it together. A lot of the test was fine but everything from the last week of class, since Santana stopped speaking to her, isn't coming to her. Her (former) best friend knew how hard it was for her to learn things in a regular classroom setting or from a textbook. Santana always took it upon herself to help the blonde and when she explained things it was easier for Brittany to understand and retain the information. It's been nine days since she's had the Latina's help…and nine days since Brittany's been able to learn anything in any of her classes, all of which she shares with the brunette.

The sound of papers being shuffled and someone standing causes Brittany to look up and watch Santana be the first student to turn in her test before going back to her desk. Brittany tries to will the Latina into looking at her, but she never so much as _**glances**_ at her just as she hasn't even _**acknowledged**_ her for the last eight days. Santana's even gone so far as to relocate herself to whatever desk is furthest from the blonde and still in the back row, of course. Once back at her desk, the newly reinstated captain of the Cheerios pulls out her iPod and the latest issue of _Cosmo_ before picking her pen back up under the pretense of doing one of the magazine's stupid quizzes. However, Brittany knows for a fact that one of the main reasons Santana chooses the back row is so that she won't have to worry about anyone looking over her shoulder to see that she's _**actually**_ doing a crossword puzzle or one of those Sudoku things.

Turning her attention back to her test, Brittany sighs in defeat at the equations and formulas she should've learned this week. Without Santana's flashcards, drawings or diagrams the most recent material is completely alien to her. So, for her final three questions she chooses to just draw pictures of trees and flowers and other pretty things in hopes that that might make her feel better. It doesn't work. When she turns in her test and sits back down, she feels even emptier than ever. She's confident enough in her other answers, which made up well over half of the test, that she'll still pass easily, but it will end up being her worst grade since she and Santana started Kindergarten together.

Brittany watches Santana carefully, torn by several conflicting emotions. She misses having her best friend, obviously, but she's also upset that the other girl would cut off all contact when she wouldn't leave her boyfriend for her just because Santana _**finally**_ figured out how she felt and asked her to. Then there's also concern because of how the Latina has regressed back to being an unrepentant bitch and completely closing herself off again. On the other hand, Brittany is angry at the other girl for making her feel guilty and concerned in the first place while she seems so unaffected. It isn't fair to ask her to drop everything for Santana now after waiting for the other girl to accept her feelings for _**years**_. Now it's as though Santana has thrown all of that progress away and safely tucked her emotions back where they came from.

The blonde jumps in her seat when the bell rings and before she can even think to approach her former friend the Cheerio is already out the door. Brittany rolls her eyes at Santana's avoidance of her considering they're going to see each other again in about three minutes in AP English Lit. As she approaches her locker, thoughts of her next class brings her to a momentary pause. They're reading _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ and she needs Santana to explain why everyone in the book uses words she doesn't understand and can't find in the dictionary…but Santana isn't exactly an option. She resigns herself to asking Quinn during lunch despite knowing that the other blonde will probably just look at her like she said something stupid again. Barely resisting the urge to sigh, Brittany slams her locker shut before going off to be ignored by Santana for another hour.

* * *

**Lunch**

The Glee students are all at their table in the back of the cafeteria with everyone broken off into their own conversations. Everyone except Brittany at least and, being seated next to the usually bubbly and talkative blonde, Quinn easily notices her silence. After taking a moment to see how dejected and lost Brittany looks, she can't help but silently curse Santana for doing this to the innocent blonde.

"What's the matter Britt-Britt?" Quinn gently asks, placing a warm hand on the other girl's arm as she does so, hoping to make up for snapping at her like she did the day before in glee club.

Brittany bites her lip at her favorite nickname that she loves only because Santana gave it to her when they were five. She manages not to start spewing out all of her confusing feelings for the short-tempered Latina out of respect for her boyfriend sitting on the other side of her. "Our test this morning," she says simply, deciding at the last moment not to ask about the book like she originally intended.

Quinn, for her part, cringes at the thought. That's the only class she shares with Brittany and Santana so she had a front row seat to the train-wreck of watching the other blonde try to finish a test on her own. "I'm sure Kessler will give you points if you spelled your name right. You _**did**_ spell you name right, didn't you Britt?" She asks, desperately hoping that the blonde got that part right, if nothing else.

"Yes," Brittany replies dully, her shoulders slumping and her eyes dropping to the table.

"Good," is Quinn's relieved reply before her expression turns sympathetic once more. "Do you think that maybe since things are so tense with Santana right now that you should talk to Ms. Pillsbury about transferring out of AP classes?" She hedges the topic, hating herself for what she's insinuating about the other blonde but at least thankful that it's probably going over her head anyways.

"What?" Brittany blurts, unable to believe the other blonde just said that. She hates that her current 'best friend' (by default) thinks she's stupid just like everyone else. Quinn _**knows**_ that she's in all AP courses with Santana.

Quinn's eyes dart pleadingly to the other members of Glee, all of which now have their attention trained on the two, silently begging them to help her explain to the dim former-Cheerio. "Brittany, I think what Quinn's getting at here is that you don't belong in advanced classes. Without being able to cheat off of Santana, which is immoral by the way, you're going to fail and you'll never be able to graduate. Honestly, I don't even know how Santana managed to get into any Advanced Placement classes herself, but I digress. If you like, I can take you to see Ms. Pillsbury now and-"

"I'm _**not**_ stupid!" Brittany finally snaps tearfully, effectively shutting Rachel up, much to the eternal gratitude of the other members of their group. Everyone stares at the blonde in shock.

"Of course you aren't, Sweetie," Artie is quick to reply, albeit condescendingly, not believing the words as he tries to do damage control after Rachel's attempt to help.

"Don't talk down to me. I'm sick of everyone always talking to me like I'm a child," Brittany crosses her arms over her chest defensively as she glares at the group, their mouths hanging open in disbelief. "She and I are in all advanced classes totally on our own merit. _**Neither**_ of us has ever cheated and I've never copied off of her or anything," she huffs after no one says anything.

"But you always look so lost in class and Santana always has to explain everything to you," Quinn points out.

"Sometimes the teachers are confusing but Santana has always been able to explain so I can understand. I learn stuff easier in a different way than you guys do so you just assume I'm stupid," Brittany defends herself before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Isn't it funny that the _**one**_ person that understands that I'm not an idiot is painted as being the 'villain' but it's _**everyone else**_ that is always so quick to judge?" She scoffs, feeling sorry for how blind they are to their own behavior.

"Come on Brittany. Everyone knows that Santana gets off on ruining other people's lives," Mercedes announces in an obvious tone earning nods from the other members of glee.

Brittany narrows her eyes at the other girl. "'It's usually the most wounded among us who inflict pain on others'," she quotes in her usual even tone before standing up. "Patti Davis," she informs them upon seeing their baffled expressions. The blonde sighs and walks out of the cafeteria, leaving her tray untouched.

The table is silent for several long moments as the group tries to digest everything. "Did that really just happen?" Artie wonders, almost certain that he imagined the whole thing.

"I think so, yeah," Puck nods weakly.

As Brittany's parting words finally sink in, they simultaneously turn towards the Cheerios' table on the other side of the cafeteria to see Santana ignoring the other Cheerios and the bottle of Sue's Master Cleanse in front of her in favor of glaring hatefully back at New Directions. That's all it takes for them to immediately look away, a chill shooting down some of their spines at the look.

"That was just weird," Rachel says and, for once, the others agree with her.

This time it's Finn that breaks the silence. "Who's Patti Davis?" He questions dimly. Everyone ignores him.

* * *

It's after school and New Directions is once again gathered in the choir room. After walking into the room it doesn't take long for Will to notice how everyone is struggling not to stare at Brittany in light of everything that learned about her.

"What's going on guys?" He asks, almost afraid of the answer only to receive a chorus of 'nothing's. "Brittany?" He directs his question to the girl in the middle of whatever seems to be going on.

"Santana's not my friend anymore," the blonde answers simply, completely understating what _**really**_ happened. The group is stunned into silence since, until then, they just assumed that the duo's split was only temporary and would blow over just like every other one of their arguments. Their reactions range from confusion to concern to suspicion to smug satisfaction, the latter mainly only applying to Artie.

"What did she _**do**_?" Rachel asks what has been on everyone's mind for the last week, wondering how bad it is so that they can get the Latina to apologize and thus end her reign of terror. Brittany indignantly stares ahead, disregarding everyone else and their ignorance of her and Santana's complicated relationship.

Sensing the other blonde's cross mood, Quinn decides to speak up. "Come on guys, let's get on with practice. We still need to decide on a replacement song for Regionals," she butts in, nodding slightly at the barely-there grateful smile from Brittany.

After sending a brief skeptical glance towards the ditzy former-Cheerio, Will decides not to push the matter. "So, does anyone have any thoughts?" He questions, deliberately overlooking the arm that immediately shot up in the front row. "_**Anyone**_?...Please?" He attempts desperately before his posture deflates. "Yes Rachel?" He sighs.

Rachel immediately jumps out of her seat to stand before the group, her trademark grin firmly planted on her face. "Well Mr. Shue, given that Santana Lopez has dropped out of the club and will obviously no longer be performing a solo, I have taken it upon myself to narrow down a list of show tunes and classic rock ballads that would not only showcase my wide vocal range and perfect pitch, but would also be able to highlight the background vocals of the rest of the group," the petite brunette informs them, paying no mind to the round of groans and rolled eyes.

Will hesitantly takes the list (two pages long…single-spaced…in 10 point font) and sets it on the piano without bothering to look at it. "Thank you Rachel. You may return to your seat," he instructs. The girl simply flashes another grin before bouncing back to her chair. "Anyone _**else**_?" He ventures hopefully.

* * *

**Cheerios Locker Room – 5:45 pm**

Santana is dreading the fact that she'll need to get up and move again eventually. Cheerios practice today involved the whole squad – herself included – running through their entire routine until it was flawless. Nearly three hours with Sue Sylvester in charge of personally overseeing practice today. After they nailed it on their fourteenth attempt, Sue grunted her version of approval and had them run laps before dismissing them. As far as Santana's concerned, she considered it a major success when she didn't collapse when Sue called her over as the others were making their way to the locker room. It was really just a bonus that Sue only wanted to comment on Santana's improved performance since she rejoined the squad…in her own borderline offensive and demeaning way, of course. Then Sue told her to put the equipment up before going to the locker room, much to the Latina's dismay.

So, when Santana finally made it back to the locker room several minutes ago, the few straggling Cheerios still there were on their way out of the locker room. It was actually something of a relief to the surly brunette to have some privacy and be able to relax before trying to figure out what to do with the rest of her evening. She's torn between dragging herself back into the Cheerios gym or going home to her cold, empty house. Too tired to get right into the showers, she instead opts for laying on one of the benches and throwing an arm over her eyes once the fluorescent lighting begins to burn her eyes from staring at the ceiling too long. Blocking out the light does nothing to take her mind off of every muscle in her body screaming at her in pain, the hard wood of the bench pressing against her back not helping matters either. Instead, Santana tries to just focus on her breathing.

Several minutes later finds Santana beginning to drift off to sleep, something her body has been severely lacking for quite some time now…since before the Brittany-drama even. She can feel the tension seeping out of her body. The peace and tranquility is shattered when the locker room door opens and shuts followed shortly by the sound of uncertain footsteps making their way through the space. The Latina's body stiffens at the noise, but she remains stretched out on the bench with one arm thrown over her eyes and the other draped over her midsection hoping that the unwelcome party leaves before stumbling across her.

Unfortunately for the Latina, who has yet to open her eyes or remove her arm from her face, the footsteps stop right in front of her. "Santana?" The intruder attempts to gain the girl's attention, the tone questioning.

* * *

For those interested, I had the hardest time coming up with a title to this story. Looking to The Beatles for inspiration (naturally!), I stumbled across _Within You Without You_, one of a handful of their songs I find maddening to listen to. The lyrics, however, fit perfectly with what I feel about Santana in this story, especially as more things are revealed. Two parts in particular sum up my thoughts:  
_We were talking - about the space between us all/ And the people - __**who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion**__/ Never glimpse the truth - then it's far too late when they pass away_…  
_We were talking - about the love that's gone so cold/ And the __**people who gain the world and lose their soul**__/They don't know, they can't see - are you one of them?_Interpret that however you wish in terms of where I'm taking this story.

Any comments or criticisms welcome.

**REPOST**: So when I _**first** _uploaded and posted this story, I had the word 'bitch' in the summary...seven months later it was suddenly a problem. Without any warning or any chance to fix the problem Admin decided to just delete the story out of _**nowhere**_. Had they bothered to inform me, I would have gladly changed the summary but they decided "fuck it, let's just delete the whole damn thing"...and they did. Every single one of you guys' reviews, favorites and alerts have been completely wiped out. Yes, they erased all 222 reviews, 190 favorites and 244 alerts.  
To make matters worse, they suspended my account until June 1 so I couldn't sumbit _**anything** _let alone repost this until now...but not until I went through all 16 chapters to re-insert the page breaks and re-edit over 122000 words...that's 175 pages in Word. So, be warned that the next chapter, which was intended to be done by now, is going to take longer due to this set-back.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 21 November 2011


	2. Make or Break

**A/N**: This chapter is where I start to get inside Santana's head more and it's also setting up some background information that will be important throughout. This also marks the last chapter that contains parts of the two different stories that I merged so it should be more fluid from here on.

**Warnings**: Mild language and minor, illicit prescription drug use (mentions of it, non-explicit)

* * *

**Chapter Two: Make or Break**

"Go away. Sleeping," Santana tiredly snaps, easily recognizing the owner of the voice.

"What are you doing?" The other girl asks her tone laced with sympathy and concern.

At the question, Santana actually wills herself to move her arm off of her face so she can shoot the blonde a venomous glare. "What does it _**look**_ _**like**_ I'm doing Fabray? I'm resting my eyes," she practically growls, her hostility is almost palpable. "You're clearly dumber than you look," she unnecessarily adds, hoping she gets under the other girl's skin enough to chase her away.

"I didn't mean right this second. What are you doing with your _**life**_?" Quinn clarifies, trying not to let her former friend's words get to her.

After studying the other girl for a moment, Santana narrows her eyes in suspicion. "How did you even get in here? Last I checked the Cheerios locker room still required a passcode to get in," she redirects their conversation.

"Sue still hasn't changed the code from before we quit so I got right in," Quinn shrugs nonchalantly before getting back to the point. "But that has nothing to do with why you're even back on the squad in the first place."

Rolling her eyes, Santana realizes that her time to unwind is officially over as she sits up on the bench. "I missed being a Cheerio," she states simply, being honest.

"No," Quinn draws out, an infuriatingly self-satisfied smirk attached to her face. "I _**know**_ you Santana. You miss the power, the status, and the control that came with _**being**_ a Cheerio," she concludes.

The Latina resists the urge to punch the other girl for being presumptuous enough to assume that she knows her so well when the blonde's only ever seen the façade that she put up. "You don't know anything Quinn," Santana sneers.

"Please," the other girl scoffs. "Sue made you quit glee, right? Just like she made you undo your 'summer surgery'. How did she do it? Threaten to tell your parents that you quit the squad to _**sing**_?" She chuckles to herself.

Santana clenches her jaw in fury, hating that her former friend thought that she was so easily manipulated by Sue Sylvester or that she dictates her life based on what her parents would think. "I told Mr. Schuester I was quitting glee before I even approached Sue about rejoining the Cheerios. It was so tedious with RuPaul constantly going off into one of her diva spirals where she expected us to feed her already bloated ego and allow her to claim the spotlight while she looked down on everyone else as little more than her back-up singers and dancers. Even worse, I was sick and tired of wasting away in that stuffy choir room talking about show tunes and expressing our _**feelings**_," Santana spits out the last word with utter distain.

Quinn stares at the other girl in mild shock, never having the slightest hint that the other girl felt that way. Her mind focuses on her tone when mentioning their 'feelings' and realization suddenly dawns on her. "Is this about Brittany?" She wonders. The timeline between Santana's surprisingly emotional song with Brittany and Ms. Holliday and her dropping glee to go back to cheering fit too well to just be a coincidence.

"No, Quinn! This is about _**me**_. This is me doing what I want to without feeling like I have to check in with you or her anymore. I'm fucking over it. Brittany and I joined glee because _**you**_ told us to and we quit the Cheerios almost two months ago because _**you**_ pressured us into it!"

"Because Sue threatened to launch Brittany out of a human _**cannon**_! Did you forget that? And, seriously San, when did you forget that Brittany was your _**best friend**_? Was it around the same time you decided to just bail on us without warning?"

"You are _**so**_ off base that I just can't even believe it," Santana shakes her head incredulously. "I've hated glee for a while now and the only reason I _**ever**_ stayed was because Brittany loves it and it made her happy having me there with her," Santana growls, swinging her legs off the bench to place them on the floor but remaining seated. "Also, I _**didn't**_ leave without warning. You guys should be _**thanking**_ me for leaving before you actually had to grow a pair and kick me out," she laughs humorlessly.

"What?" Quinn breathes out, unable to understand how the other girl could think that.

"The whole club's been pushing me out for a while now. Remember when everyone pretty much got together to tell me how much I suck and that my future only held a stripper pole? Remember when I got left out of the 'meetings' between you and the other girls because no one thought it counted that I was with Puck?" Santana arches a challenging eyebrow, daring the other girl to contradict her.

For her part, Quinn sits in stunned silence as she takes in what the Latina said. "I didn't realize…" she trails off, not quite sure what to make of everything.

Santana sighs in impatience and frustration. "Whatever. You guys really did me a favor by making the decision to leave an easy one. Since Brittany and I are _**clearly**_ no longer friends, there was no reason for me to stay," she shrugs nonchalantly as she calmly stands up to brush any debris from the bench off her skirt and smooth down its pleats as well.

"Britt is struggling without you," Quinn says in hopes of appealing to the darker girl's innate need to protect her former best friend.

Without even pausing at the declaration, Santana continues to pull her Cheerios gym bag and backpack out of her locker. "She has Artie, you and the glee club to help her," she retorts, trying to keep the disdain out of her tone…and failing miserably.

"I can't get her to understand like you can. I didn't even know the two of you share all AP classes without having cheated to get there. Why didn't anyone else know? Why let us keep thinking she was stupid?" Quinn can't help but ask.

Her back turned to the blonde Santana pauses before with a hand on her locker door, allowing a small smile to briefly ghost over her features before disappearing again just as quickly. "It was her choice and became kind of an in-joke between us because you always thought she was being serious when she was just kidding around," she shakes her head in disgust at her classmates.

"Like how Christopher Cross discovered America?" Quinn smirks.

"Something like that," Santana rolls her eyes.

"She really knew that it was Christopher _**Columbus**_, right?" Quinn tries to make sure she's clear.

Santana glares as she slams her locker shut and turns to the blonde. "Where _**were**_ you in history class? Columbus didn't 'discover' America," she snaps, growing increasingly uncomfortable with how long she's been talking to the former Cheerio already.

"Then who did?" The blonde wonders skeptically, perplexed as to why the other girl is back to being hostile.

"Ask Brittany," Santana scoffs before grabbing her belongings, turning on her heel and leaving the locker room.

"What the hell?" Quinn mumbles to herself. She shakes her head at her former friend's behavior before exiting to the abandoned hallway.

* * *

**6:20 pm**

Walking into the empty house, Santana is greeted by the soul-crushing silence she has come to expect. It never got to her before like it does now because before she at least had Brittany coming home with her to break up the quiet. She hangs her keys up by the door, sets her backpack down at the foot of the staircase and brings her gym bag down to the basement so she can put her uniform in the wash since Figgins cut the Cheerios' dry cleaning from the budget. Starting the washing machine, she makes a mental note to drop her other uniforms off at the dry cleaners before school tomorrow so they'll be in pristine condition for the competition this weekend. Picking up the empty gym bag, she leaves the basement and picks up her backpack before going upstairs to her room. This has been her nightly routine since she made her confession and she knows she has another long, lonely night ahead of her.

* * *

**Brittany's House**

Eyes glazing over in boredom as she stares at the textbook in front of her, Brittany heaves a sigh before bashfully glancing up at her companion. "I still don't get it," she meekly interjects Quinn's rambling, almost ashamed to have to admit it.

Quinn closes her eyes and wills herself not to get frustrated and start snapping at her friend. "What don't you get about it?" She asks, trying to keep her tone as controlled as possible.

Brittany looks down at the notes Quinn let her copy and bites her bottom lip. "Any of it," she replies. "I just don't understand anything," she shakes her head at herself.

"Let me try and explain it again," Quinn insists, hating to see the other girl like this almost as much as she hates trying to explain advanced physics topics to her. Brittany reluctantly nods. "So, the activation energy is basically the minimum amount of energy you need for a reaction. Okay?" She pauses to make sure the other blonde is with her so far.

"Okay," Brittany responds, at least understanding that much.

"The energy is measured in kilojoules per mole and to find…What's wrong?" Quinn asks as soon as she sees her friend's face scrunch up in distaste.

"That doesn't make any sense…and it sounds kind of racist," Brittany states.

The former head cheerio wracks her brain in an attempt to figure out what the other girl is talking about. "It's '_**kilo-joules**_'," she over-enunciates after a moment, "not 'kill Jews'," she finishes.

"Oh, good," Brittany grins, relief evident on her features. "I don't know what that has to do with moles though. They're blind and have crazy-huge claws," she voices her other concern.

"Were you like this with Santana when she was trying to explain things to you?" Quinn asks, her exasperation getting the better of her.

"Like what?" Is the clueless response.

Taking that as a 'yes', Quinn closes her textbook and puts it in her backpack. "Look, Britt, as much as I want to help you out, I don't think this is going to work. Personally, no offense to you or anything, I have no idea how _**Santana**_, of _**all**_ people, had the patience to help you learn all of this," she informs the other girl regretfully. "But I _**am**_ sorry that I can't help," she is sure to insist.

Brittany offers a half-hearted smile before sitting up fully on her bed. "Don't worry about it Q. At least you tried, right?" She questions in an effort to ease some of the guilt she notices settling on her friend's features.

Quinn weakly smiles back before she remembers her encounter with Santana earlier. "Who discovered America?" She finds herself asking before she can help herself.

"What?" Brittany wonders, barely holding back a laugh at the random question.

"Please humor me here," she requests.

Brittany looks at her friend as though she asked her to find the square root of a chair, but she shakes it off to answer the question, amusement written all over her expression. "Um, Leif Ericson...but that's what the books tell us and it ignores how insulting it is to the indigenous people here to imply that it, like, didn't count until someone from another country claimed it or whatever," she replies, adding her own thoughts on the matter.

"Wow," Quinn chuckles, shaking her head.

"What? Did you expect me to say 'Christopher Cross' or something?" Brittany jokes earning a smirk from the other girl. "What made you ask me anyways?" She can't help but wonder.

"Santana and I got into it a little earlier and she told me to ask you," Quinn responds without thinking before her eyes go wide in realization.

"You talked to her? What'd she say? How is she?" She blurts, her voice conveying a mix of confusion, excitement, and dread.

"I wanted to know how she got Coach Sylvester to let her back on the squad as captain and ask why she would even want that in the first place because she was so miserable on the Cheerios-"

"No she wasn't," the other blonde interrupts, earning a confused look from her friend. "It gave her something to put all of her energy and focus on instead of her own life. She didn't have to think about parents or her personal life. She felt like she belonged there, was welcome and respected and it was something for her to really be a part of since she never really got that at home. I guess New Directions hasn't ever really treated her like that in the same way the Cheerios did," she sighs in realization, feeling like she somehow failed her best friend.

"That's more than what she told me during our conversation," Quinn says, awed by how well Brittany really seems to know how Santana's mind works. "Now that I think about it, she never actually answered any of my questions. She somehow turned the whole conversation into how screwed up glee is," she furrows her brows as she finally recognizes how evasive the Latina was in her responses.

"Her mother **_is_** a lawyer. It's her job to turn hard questions into an indictment against whoever's on the opposing side. That's where Santana gets that from," Brittany replies knowingly, a small hint of pride in her tone.

"I'm starting to get the feeling that I never really knew either of you," Quinn sighs at her obliviousness.

"That's not your fault. San and I used to have fun getting people to see only what we let them, but I got tired of hiding and pretending to be someone I'm not," Brittany shrugs, her voice taking on a sad quality.

"What do you mean B?" She asks, her interest piqued by the ambiguous statement.

The other blonde sighs and averts her gaze to the comforter. "I wanted her to stop acting like what we had didn't mean anything. I didn't want us to be a secret anymore and I wanted her to tell me how she really felt so we could be together," she explains.

"You told her that before she quit glee?" Quinn questions thinking that it would make sense for that to push the brunette into leaving the club.

"This was back before the duet competition in October," Brittany answers.

This bit of news catches the other blonde momentarily off-guard. "So it took her most of the school year to decide that she didn't want to be with you?" She asks in disbelief.

Brittany bites her bottom lip uncertainly before deciding that she needs to release some of this pent-up emotion. "She told me she loved me after we did _Landslide_ together and I told her I loved her too-"

"So why aren't you two living happily ever after right now?" Quinn can't help but ask.

"I have feelings for Artie too and he cares about me too without worrying about what other people think when they see us together. Santana's not ready for that yet and I'm not going to leave Artie because Santana decided to pull her head out of her ass just enough to finally admit that she loves me," Brittany explains thoughtfully.

The other blonde is unable to hold back a smirk at that. "What are you going to do?" She finally voices.

Brittany seems to deflate at the question. "I'm more than willing to wait for her to be ready, but other than that? I don't know. I figured I'd wing it," she sighs. Both girls sit in pensive silence, lost in their own thoughts regarding this very complicated situation.

* * *

**The Next Morning**

Santana stares out of the front windshield of her car at the mostly empty school building before her with a sense of dread. The heaviness of her limbs makes her regret taking those Xanax she swiped from her mother's medicine cabinet last night so she'd _**finally**_ be able to get some sleep. She barely managed to find the energy to get up early to drop her spare uniforms off at the dry cleaners before coming to school. Briefly she entertains the idea of skipping for the day, immediately dismissing it when she considers the wrath she'd have to face from Sue Sylvester tomorrow.

Slowly getting out of her car, Santana pulls on her backpack before shouldering her duffle bag and trudging her way to the building. Lucky for her she's early enough that no one's there to see how out of it she is this morning or for Karofsky to be around to get her back for slushying him yesterday. Still, given her current lethargic state, she is not looking forward to having to go all the way to the Cheerios locker room just to put her duffle back in her locker so she won't have to carry it around all day.

The Latina doesn't get more than five steps into the building before she's greeted by the sound of bickering voices coming from one of the rooms down the main hallway. She rolls her eyes and curses herself for not considering that the glee club would be meeting this morning because of the impending Regionals competition. As she draws closer to the commotion, she can't help but let her curiosity get the better of her as she stops by the doorway to listen in on their latest drama. If nothing else, then it will give her some hot gossip to dangle in front of Sue later.

"Mr. Schue, I think that it's fairly obvious that I'm the only one here qualified enough to carry this solo. Even before Santana so selfishly quit mere weeks before Regionals, I still maintain that I was a better fit for it in the first place," Rachel seems to be pleading her case and, hidden from view, Santana rolls her eyes.

"Oh _**hell**_ to the no!" Mercedes interjects incredulously. "I _**know**_ you aren't trying to say that you're the only talented one in here," she adds, scowl firmly in place.

"Look Mercedes, you're good and everything, but no one else here has the same perfect pitch and voice control as I do. It's not your fault and I'm sure that someday you'll be the next Aretha-"

Rachel is cut off by her own screaming as the other girl lunges for her. Luckily for the tiny brunette, Puck and Sam are there to hold back the furious dark-skinned girl. "Let me go! I am seriously gonna cut a bitch!" Mercedes rages.

"Okay, guys. Come on. We're supposed to be working as a team, remember?" Will tries to placate the group.

"I'm sorry Mr. Schuester, but Rachel needs a reality check. She seems to think that we're all here just to sing backup for her or dance around in the background while she gets to stand in the spotlight," Quinn defends the group's irritation towards the diva.

"I do _**not**_ think that!" Rachel protests almost immediately, not convincing anyone.

Santana, meanwhile, stands outside the room stunned that Quinn said the same thing about Rachel as she did in the locker room yesterday.

"I know that losing such an…_**outspoken**_ member of the club has affected the group dynamic here," Will begins, hesitating on finding a nice way to describe the brunette's personality. "We're still a team though and maybe we just need to re-learn how to work together as one," he announces with far too much enthusiasm.

Santana chances a glance into the choir room, her eyes seeking out one blonde dancer in particular and she spots her almost immediately…sitting on her boyfriend's lap and smiling at him. Despite her ego having been somewhat inflated by hearing how her absence has actually had an impact on the club, seeing the girl she loves adapting fine without her only pushes her right back down. Disgusted with herself for being so dependent on Brittany, Santana shakes her head and stalks off towards the Cheerios locker room, no longer feeling as though she can stomach listening to them.

Back in the choir room, a niggling feeling in the back of Brittany's mind compels her to look up at the door. The feeling isn't something she can easy explain because it's more of a sixth sense than anything else. Still, the blonde isn't prepared to see the toss of a black ponytail as its owner turns around only to be followed by the brief flash of a red and white Cheerios uniform, the red pleats fluttering behind the figure. Even with only the most fleeting glance, Brittany knows exactly who was just there despite not being able to see the other girl's face. No one around her, least of all her boyfriend, notices how her breath seems to have caught in her throat and she can't take her eyes off the now empty door.

* * *

**Lunch Period**

Santana is almost relieved to be seated in front of Miss Pillsbury for her lunch break. This way she doesn't have to suffer at the Cheerios table listening to the vapid conversation around her or, worse, have them all _**desperately**_ clawing for her attention and/or approval. On the other hand, she's baffled as to why the guidance counselor requested to see her in the first place and can't help but be somewhat suspicious of the whole situation.

"So, Santana," Miss Pillsbury begins with her distinctively lilting speech pattern and high-pitched voice. "Do you know why I wanted to see you today?" She asks the Latina, at once trying to get the other girl to meet her eyes while simultaneously being almost afraid to actually make eye contact.

"Who am _**I**_ to question why you do anything?" Santana retorts, her face a mask of indifference as she continues to file her nails to display her disinterest.

Not sure if she should read Santana's comment as being sarcastic, cocky, mocking or unusually philosophical given the other girl's projected personality, Emma chooses to simply clear her throat awkwardly. "Right, well, is anything coming to mind that you think might have led you to being called here today?" She tries to get her participate in the conversation enough to at least quit her current task of desecrating her office with nail filings.

Breathing out a long-suffering sigh, the brunette drags her eyes up to briefly shoot the counselor an irritated glare. Wordlessly, she places the file back in her purse before leaning back in her seat with her hands in her lap and her fingers interlaced to stare at the other woman for a moment. She resists the urge to grin wickedly when she notices the redhead swallow nervously, but she keeps up the façade of being incredibly inconvenienced.

"Let me guess, Mr. Schuester approached you after I quit Glee because he was concerned that something horrible had to have happened in my personal life for me to ditch his precious, _**precious**_ club in favor of going back to the Cheerios," the Latina ventures, an eyebrow arched as if daring the obsessive compulsive woman to contradict her.

"Y-Yes, that's a big part of why you're here," Emma stammers, a little caught off guard by how direct and accurate the answer was. "But mostly Will was concerned about how you didn't even react when the bell rang to dismiss you from his Spanish class. He thought that maybe you wanted to talk, but you looked really 'out of it' when you left after a few moments."

"I had a late night last night," the teen sneers, lying through her teeth. Having taken a couple of her mother's pills shortly after getting home from practice last night around 7:00pm, she was unconscious less than an hour later.

"Have you been using drugs?" The counselor is compelled to ask as she searches for her drug-awareness pamphlet, _This Feels Like Magic!_

Santana snorts in disbelief as she folds her arms across her chest. "I'm a _**Cheerio**_," she emphasizes in an obvious tone, as if it explained everything. "Look, if there's nothing else, I'm gonna try to at least get _**some**_ enjoyment out of my lunch break," she declares with a deliberately transparent fake smile before picking up her bag and standing up to go.

All Ms. Pillsbury can do is open and close her mouth several times, unsure what to make of the situation or what she can say to get the Latina to drop her tough-girl act. Santana scoffs at the redhead's expression before walking out. Bypassing the cafeteria, she makes a beeline for Sue Sylvester's office, her features set in determination.

"What?" The blonde coach barks at the sound of knocking. Santana's hand twitches in hesitation before she turns the knob and enters the office, her face as neutral as ever. "Well, J. Lo, to what do I owe the pleasure?" She asks upon glancing up, taking her time to close the open files in front of her and push them to the side.

"I was early this morning and overheard something in the choir room during a glee meeting," Santana replies blandly, not entirely sure why she's telling the other woman all of this…except to maybe get back at Mr. Schuester for making her speak to the useless guidance counselor.

"Go on," Sue insists as she leans forward slightly, thoroughly intrigued by the girl in front of her.

"There's a lot of dissent in the group about their Regionals set list now that I've quit and Mr. Schuester is concerned about the change in the group's 'dynamic'," she recalls the hazy conversation she overheard. "Rachel tried to take over my solo and Mercedes tried to attack her," she elaborates.

"Which one is Mercedes?" Sue questions, more to complete the visual than out of interest for the students.

"Aretha," Santana rolls her eyes at the use of the coach's nickname for the other girl. "Quinn called her out for being an attention whore and the whole room launched into chaos," she says.

"Fantastic," the older of the two grins sadistically. "Anything else?" She asks, eagerly fishing for any dirt on the group and its director that she can get.

"Yesterday, after Cheerio practice, Quinn came and ambushed me in the locker room. She got in using her old passcode," she informs the other woman, wanting nothing more than to ensure that her former friend would never be able to sneak up on her like that again.

At this, Sue seems momentarily surprised. "What did she want?" She questions suspiciously.

"To try and get me to come back and throw false assumptions around that proved how little she knew me," Santana shrugs, eyes darkening in barely concealed bitterness.

Coach Sylvester narrows her eyes. "I suppose I'll have to change the access code to Cheerios locker room now," she growls.

"Any ideas what the new one will be?" The Latina questions idly, not caring too much one way or the other.

"Not a clue. In the ten year history of my coaching the Cheerios not once have I ever had to change the locker room code," the older woman grumbles.

"Then may I suggest using Jean's birthday? It's a lot less obvious than using your own birthday was and would be better able to ensure that no one outside of the squad will be able to guess it," Santana offers nonchalantly.

Sue narrows her eyes at the Latina, this being the first time either of them have so much as alluded to having any familiarity with one another outside of school. "Don't you think your former partner in crime-"

"Brittany doesn't remember when your sister's birthday is. She and I were friends for, like, fifteen years and she sometimes couldn't even remember _**my**_ birthday," Santana rolls her eyes.

"Hmm," Coach Sylvester hums thoughtfully before waving her hand toward the door to signal that it's time for her head Cheerio to leave. Santana takes the hint and exits the office, leaving Sue to her thoughts.

For her part, Sue hates that there are even _**two**_ people in the entire school, let alone the state, that knows her one weakness…her sister. Granted, the outwardly dimwitted Brittany is utterly harmless, but she knows that Santana is manipulative enough to know how to use the information against her if it ever came down to it. It was back in their freshman year and entirely by accident when they pair had gone to the home to visit Santana's grandmother…and just so happened to run into Sue and her sister outside in the garden. It was always something that the three left completely unspoken that they would never acknowledge outside of the facility. When Santana's grandmother passed away over this last summer, the girls stopped visiting. Sue was glad that they no longer were around to witness her vulnerability, but also angered because her sister enjoyed the girls' company.

Running her hands tiredly over her face, Sue picks up the phone on her desk and dials the security company to have them change the access code to the Cheerios locker room. She'll be damned if she lets Fabray try to steal her captain like that again.

* * *

**Cheerios Locker Room - 5:00 pm**

Santana knows that the next two days are going to make or break her position as the reinstated Head Cheerio. She has to prove her ability as a damn good squad captain and cheerleader. As far as Santana is concerned, her current position is something of a tentative, probationary status and can be taken away at any time. If she and the squad win State on Saturday, then she'll solidify her title and be able to breathe a little easier while preparing for Nationals.

Still, with all the pressure on her to get through the preliminaries tomorrow and the finals on Saturday, all she can think about is Brittany and the lost, conflicted look on her former best friend's face during that physics exam the other day. She couldn't help but let her eyes flicker over to the blonde when she was on her way back to her seat and it took every ounce of her willpower not to rush to the girl's side to comfort her and promise her that everything will be okay once class let out. They have every class together and it only gets more difficult with each passing day to see her struggling like that when she knows that it would only take her a few minutes to get Brittany to understand. The problem is how much it hurts to know that she's only her second choice and, if being one of Sue's Cheerios for nearly three years has taught her anything, it's that coming in second is still losing.

The Latina is well aware that having all AP classes means that there's no way in hell she can rearrange her schedule since they only meet during specific times. So, she had to take control of how much time she'd have to spend with the blonde wherever she could. Raising hell when Ms. Pillsbury tried to tell her that she couldn't change her locker was by far the most fun way she was able to take control. After making the redhead thoroughly uncomfortable by 'nonchalantly' touching about everything on the woman's desk until she agreed was priceless. The Latina is certain that the other woman had to have gone through a couple of economy sized cans of disinfectant once she left the office.

Quitting the glee club wasn't as easy or as fun, but it isn't like she lives for show choir in the same way Rachel Berry does. Sure, she lied to Quinn about hating it _**completely**_, but it didn't exactly break her heart or totally devastate her to quit. She loves to sing, but she doesn't live and breathe music unlike a lot of the other members of New Directions. Also unlike most of the others, she knows that she has so much more going for her than singing when it comes time to pick a school after graduation. It would be stupid to try to get a scholarship for being in glee club considering that it's much more impressive to be the captain of the _**internationally**_ ranked Cheerio squad that led them to their fifth and, ideally, sixth and seventh _**consecutive**_ National Championship titles. That is especially impressive considering how everyone in the cheerleading community knows what the infamously demanding Coach Sue Sylvester is like and how the role as her Head Cheerio is notorious for being one of the most stressful and daunting in cheer history.

In the history of the McKinley High Cheerios under Sue, there have been a total of eight total National wins – this year will, hopefully, mark the ninth (out of ten total years of participation). The Head Cheerio from the year they lost had a nervous breakdown after the squad was presented with the runner up trophy. She's been institutionalized and hasn't spoken since the loss back in 2005. Over the course of the last ten years, Sue has had a total of seventeen different captains. Several only lasted a few months and many didn't see a competition as the captain because they couldn't handle it. If Santana makes it through the year, she will be only the second girl to survive as Captain for more than one year and the first _**ever**_ to see a third year in charge. So, she's confident that this is more impressive than being in the fucking _**glee club**_.

All of that being said, Santana was surprised at how easy it was to be reinstated, even on a probationary basis, as Head Cheerio after quitting like she did. Sure, she knew that Coach had a bit of a soft spot for her (which neither of them _**ever**_ acknowledge for various reasons), but she thought it would've required a lot more groveling on her part. Refusing to be afraid or intimidated worked in her favor and she suspected that Coach was a little more desperate and, therefore, more forgiving considering the squad's recent humiliation at Regionals. Had they _**actually**_ won, then it would've been a lot harder for her to bargain with Sue the way she did. Also, learning from the past and how easily replaced she was, she had the forethought to have a legally binding contract drawn up courtesy of a paralegal at her mother's law firm. If nothing else, Santana knew that Coach Sylvester was at least _**mildly**_ impressed at her initiative.

So, here Santana sits. After a relatively short practice, she has an hour and a half to pick up her dry cleaning, go home to shower and change and make it back by 6:30 to catch the bus driving them the two hours to Columbus. Aside from her uniforms at the dry cleaners, everything else is already packed and ready in the trunk of her car. Despite this being exactly what she's convinced herself that she wanted, she still can't help but feel completely empty. With a heavy sigh, she stands up from the bench, grabs her Cheerios duffle and fixes her usual cruel, unforgiving sneer on her face even though she's the only one left in the locker room and, probably, the school. The expression is just as much for her own mindset as it is for the image she wants to project because, if she can maintain the façade for herself when no one else is around, then maybe it will eventually cease to be a façade and become the reality instead.

As Santana steps out of the safety of the abandoned Cheerio locker room, the mask almost slips when she finds a particular blonde standing right in front of the door, apparently waiting. "Brittany," she greets blandly, holding back from displaying anything but cold indifference and doing a good job of hiding how startled she was to find someone on the other side of the door.

"Hey San," Brittany replies with a tentative smile, not even bothering to conceal how she feels as she nervously wrings her hands and tries to figure out how to act around the other girl…something she's _**never**_ had to do in the history of their friendship.

After a moment of tense silence, Santana rolls her eyes and folds her arms impatiently across her chest. "Did you want something or are you just stalking me?" She questions being deliberately rude.

"I just miss you," the blonde confesses in an attempt to reach the girl she got a glimpse of in front of the lockers a couple weeks back after singing _Landslide_.

"I'm right here," Santana scoffs, purposefully misunderstanding the statement.

"No, you aren't. We both know that this isn't really you," she quietly asserts.

"Maybe it _**is**_ and the Santana you're looking for was the fake," the Latina retorts, keeping her voice even and expression neutral.

"I don't believe that," Brittany shakes her head adamantly, her confidence never wavering. "I wish you'd drop the act because I still see right through it. You've never been able to hide from me so I know that underneath that bitch-face is still the girl I'm in love with," she states, stepping into the Latina's personal space.

Santana defiantly maintains eye contact to make sure she gets the point across that Brittany's proximity has no effect on her, despite it being a lie. "You are _**so**_ naïve," she rolls her eyes in exasperation.

"I'd rather be naïve than be in denial about who I am," Brittany retorts, hurt and a little angry that her former best friend would even call her that.

The brunette chuckles and shakes her head. "You have no idea what you're talking about," she smirks before taking a step back and turning around in an effort to make the fact that she's running away look casual.

"I'm talking about how you, Santana Lopez, are capital G-Gay," Brittany states loudly, but not quite yelling, before the other girl can make it more than five steps away.

The Latina's body goes rigid against her will and she finds herself scanning the hallway for any signs of life lurking around as she turns back to the blonde. "I am _**not**_ gay!" She emphasizes in a harsh whisper, wanting to be sure no one can hear what's being said.

Unfortunately for Santana, the blonde former Cheerio doesn't share her same desire for discretion in the deserted school. "Yes you are. You're really, _**really**_ gay San," Britt smiles warmly, trying to take the sting out of how blunt her words are. "And it's totally okay that you are. You just have to stop lying to yourself and everyone around you about it."

"It absolutely is _**not**_ okay to be gay," Santana snaps, growing even more infuriated when the other girl grins at how that declaration rhymed instead of simply taking her word as the truth. "And even if it _**was**_ okay, it still wouldn't change the fact that I'm straight. I like guys and I would _**much**_ rather fuck some random guy than _**you**_ any day. You were just convenient, that's all. It never meant anything more to me than just getting off," she growls, making sure to hit on every major point of the blonde's insecurities about whatever they had before Artie came along.

Brittany finally breaks eye contact by glancing down at her shoes. "I know you're scared and you're hurting San, but that's no excuse to take all of your frustrations out on me because I'm safe and convenient. One of these days I might decide that I've had enough and decide that you'll never change. One of these days, when I walk away from you it will be for the last time because I won't come back," she says in a near-whisper, barely keeping the tears at bay.

At the sight, Santana can feel her façade being chipped away. "Britt…" she trails off before she can stop herself, the familiar nickname tumbling from her lips all too easily. The blonde returns her hopeful gaze to the Latina's face. "Shouldn't you be with Artie somewhere?" She finishes, nowhere near what she intended to say. Her tone comes out sounding defeated and it isn't lost on the other girl.

"I wanted…I _**needed**_ to see you _**more**_. But I really hate seeing you like _**this**_," Brittany answers. Santana doesn't say anything but she folds her arms across her chest and looks away from the blonde. "And I guess maybe I wanted to wish you luck for the State Championship this weekend. With you as Head Cheerio again I know you'll win," she adds sincerely with a sad smile before turning and leaving the Latina alone in the hallway.

Santana watches her ex-friend/lover walk away and disappear around a corner. "Thanks, Britt," she despondently and quietly replies to the well-wishes before heading in the opposite direction to go to her car.

* * *

So, we got to catch a glimpse inside the mind of Santana and briefly see how very much alone she is now without Brittany constantly at her side. Also, Sue…weird, right? Definitely expect more Santana/Sue weirdness throughout this story. The contract Santana mentioned in regards to rejoining the Cheerios will come up again.

Next chapter will start off about three hours after this chapter ends – the night before the Ohio State Cheerleading Championships begin – for a short scene before skipping to Saturday night. The majority of the chapter will take place at a party Puck's throwing at his house and will include the morning after.  
Expect more development of the Brittany/Quinn friendship next chapter and a good amount of Santana/Brittany stuff as well. Bonus: drunk Santana.

The next chapter will mark the last _**complete**_ chapter that is meant to set up the rest of the story as far as just demonstrating the effects of Santana being rejected and where Brittany and Santana's feelings are regarding it. Chapter four will finish the set up portion of this and the end of that chapter will include a conversation which will, ultimately, result in an event that will set everything else in motion.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 29 November 2011


	3. Still Cares

**A/N**: The beginning of this is still that Thursday, the day the last chapter ended on, before immediately jumping ahead after the first line break.

**Spoilers!**: In the last chapter, when I mentioned Santana's grandmother that passed away recently, she was not meant to be the same 'abuela' we met in _I Kissed a Girl_.

**Warnings**: Some language, underage drinking, Lima-Heights-Adjacent!Santana (drunken! edition)…not sure if that even needs a warning, but I want to be safe.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Still Cares**

**Columbus – Three Hours Later**

After checking in at the hotel and given their room assignments, Santana practically collapses on her bed. The two hour bus ride was about what she expected. Being a notoriously ruthless and exacting squad captain means that the other Cheerios fear her and respect her, but none of them dare try to _**befriend**_ her. Her reputation and demeanor, no matter how exaggerated it may be, is like a neon sign warning others that she neither wants or _**needs**_ any friends and she is perfectly content being independent. Needless to say, while most of the other Cheerios paired off in their seats on the bus, Santana went straight to the back and sat down with her iPod.

The tension was bad enough when the squad realized that their short-tempered and demanding captain was going to be spending the next two hours staring at the back of their heads. However, the team's anxiety levels skyrocketed when Becky stepped on the bus and immediately went to the back to sit next to the fiery Latina while Coach Sylvester took the front seat behind the driver so she could yell at him more effectively the whole way there. No one knew what to expect when Becky sat next to the head Cheerio, but an elusive half-smile from Santana certainly wasn't it. Sue didn't even bat an eye when her sidekick immediately gravitated to the only other borderline 'villain' on the bus.

Becky was probably the only person in the school not afraid of Santana Lopez, aside from Brittany. She would even go so far as to say that she's kind of idolized her since the bake sale back in their sophomore year. The squad almost audibly releases a collective sigh of relief when it becomes apparent that Sue and Santana both share a common soft spot for Becky before they slowly begin to drift back off in their own conversations. Aside from the random question from the girl beside her about whatever homework she's working on, Santana is thankfully left alone for the duration of the trip.

Now, never more thankful for the insane Cheerios budget, Santana is glad that she only has to share her hotel room with one other member of the squad. The fact that her roommate is one of the male cheerleaders of questionable sexuality only fuels Santana's suspicions that Sue is at least entertaining the idea that her Head Cheerio might be into girls. Still, the Latina can't help but feel a little sorry for the other boy for being stuck bunking with her for the duration of the competition.

* * *

**Puck's House – Saturday Night**

"I don't know why we're here," Brittany laments to the blonde beside her in their own isolated corner of the den.

"We're here because you've been sulking around school since Santana quit glee and, to be perfectly honest, it's depressing everyone else in New Directions. I thought bringing you to Puck's party might help lift your spirits or something," Quinn explains, fairly certain that her plan isn't working.

"I really don't think it's a good idea to bring ghosts into this," Brittany offers earnestly. Since the revelation about Brittany and Santana secretly being kind-of geniuses, Quinn is no longer sure what to make of the other blonde's off-the-wall statements. When Brittany notices this, she offers her friend a hint of a smile to show that she's joking. "Besides, it doesn't feel like we even belong here," she sighs after a moment.

"Why not?" Quinn snaps, trying not to sound too defensive.

"Look around Q. We're the only people here that aren't jocks or Cheerios or popular," the taller girl points out, self-consciously keeping her tone low.

"First of all, of course we're still popular…our boyfriends are on the football team," Quinn rolls her eyes as though it solved everything. "And still, no one's bothered us yet or anything," she adds, noting that no one around them seems to be looking down on them with distain or even paying them much mind at all.

"That's kinda my point Q. Not even the football players from glee, _**including**_ our boyfriends, have so much as looked at us and no one else from glee is here so it's not like we can gossip with them," the blonde continues to explain her discontent.

"I know," Quinn acknowledges with a sigh.

"And my Kool-Aid tastes funny," Brittany adds, glaring distastefully at the red liquid sloshing around in her plastic Solo cup. "I think there might be alcohol in it," she whispers conspiratorially to her companion.

To her horror and amusement, Quinn realizes that Brittany isn't trying to be funny with this obvious observation. "You're already on your third cup of that crap, so it can't be too bad," she instead replies, earning an idle shrug in response. "Come on, maybe if we stop being reclusive and hiding in the den we'll run into some people to talk to," she suggests, gently taking her friend by the elbow and leading them through the house.

"Yeah," Brittany relents as she trails behind the shorter blonde. "It's weird that I haven't seen Santana yet though," she frowns, looking at everyone around her as they continue to make their way through the crowd.

"I guess," Quinn brushes off the comment, glad that she hasn't crossed paths with the Latina.

"The Cheerios just won the state title and she's usually the first one to show up to a party like this to celebrate. But we've already been here for a while and we _**still**_ haven't seen San-"

The enthusiastic cheering of a group of jocks in the kitchen cuts off the blonde and brings both girls' attention to the center island. Here Santana is standing on one side of the island opposite a vaguely familiar hockey player as they face-off in a shots contest. After tossing back her tenth shot, Santana flips the shot glass and slams it down with a victorious grin, the noise level raises even more with cheers for Santana's victory and taunting to the loser. The hockey player glares accusingly at his two remaining shots, as though they were to blame for him losing to a girl that probably _**barely**_ weighs 100 pounds.

"-tana," Brittany dully finishes her sentence at the sight.

"Hells yeah, Bitches!" Santana drunkenly shouts triumphantly at the group of jocks gathered around. "See, this is what I likes to call a _**winning streak**_. Then again, I don't expect any of _**you**_ fucking losers to know what _**that**_ was if it bit you on the dick," she slurs her ridicule of the guys with a smug grin firmly in place, much to the amusement of the other bystanders.

"Fuck you Lopez!" Dave Karofsky barks at the small Latina, getting in her face as much as he is able to considering the girl is roughly half a foot shorter than him.

"Fuck you back Karofsky! Fuck you right in the ear, Dick-Face!" Santana retorts, poking him roughly in the chest, attempting to make herself look taller by rising up on the balls of her feet. Her body sways unsteadily.

"Shouldn't you be fucking some nameless guy by now, Slut?" He sneers, all the rage and embarrassment from earlier that week intensified by the alcohol.

"Imma let that slide since I know you're just mad 'cause you _**know**_ I'd never let you gets all up in 'dis," Santana retorts without missing a beat, only Brittany noticing the brief flicker of pain in the Latina's eyes. "And yeah, I loves me some sex, but I'd still never be _**so**_ desperate to gets me a piece that I'd lower _**my**_self to fucking you 'cause I find you _**repulsive**_," she continues to deride him.

Karofsky finds himself far too enraged to form words and he instead chooses to advance threateningly on the small Latina, who belligerently stands her ground. "Whoa! Dave, what the hell?" Puck intervenes, stepping between the Cheerio and football/hockey player.

"That bitch started it," he defends himself.

"Dude, it's _**Santana**_, that's kinda what she does," Puck points out obviously. "Just let it go, man."

"Yeah, _**Dave**_, just let it go," Santana mocks from behind the mohawked boy, her arms folded antagonistically across her chest and her overall demeanor screams hostility with her eyes narrowed into a glare and her head bobbing slightly to the side as if to dare him to do anything.

"You aren't even worth it," Karofsky shakes his head before walking away, pushing through his still stunned teammates.

"That's right! You _**best**_ be on your way afores I ends you!" She snaps back, making sure to get the last word.

"You okay?" Puck softly asks the Latina, trying to gauge her mental state.

"I need a fucking drink," Santana scoffs and rolls her eyes at the other boy's concern.

"I think you should probably switch to water," Puck tries to convince the brunette without pissing her off…and failing.

"Why are you trying to ruin my happy day? Me and the Cheerios won _**fucking**_ _**State**_ today!" Santana shouts the last part, earning a round of cheers from the Cheerios lingering around. "We's be _**goin'**_ to Nationals and I'm tryin' to celebrate here. I'm happy goddamn it!" She barks, looking anything but.

Puck knows that the slurring in the other girl's tone means that she won't be conscious for much longer and that it would probably be in everyone's best interest to just play along until she passes out. Then he spots, perhaps, the only person that can save him from Satan's wrath.

"Hey, look San! It's Brittany!" He announces happily, trying to distract her from yelling at him. Santana whips her head around to stare at the blonde, her expression inscrutable as Brittany shyly waves her hand and smiles tentatively.

"Yeah, I'm gettin' a drink," Santana grumbles as she goes to push past Puck. He doesn't let her by and instead puts an arm over her shoulder and spins her back around so they're both facing Brittany and most of the other occupants in the kitchen.

"Body shots!" Puck shouts, smirking mischievously at Brittany, who casually shrugs her shoulders to indicate that she has no problem with the suggestion.

"What are you doing Brittany?" Quinn finally breaks her silence to ask as her friend takes a step towards the center island.

"Trying to get her to talk to me," the taller blonde replies nonchalantly.

"Since when has this _**ever**_ led to 'talking' with you two?" Quinn questions knowingly. Brittany simply shoots her a glare – or as close to one as she is able to muster – before going back to the island. She shucks off her shirt on the way, tossing it playfully at Quinn, and revealing her pale pink bra as she hops up on the counter which results in loud cheers of appreciation from all the guys, and a few girls, around.

"You're up first San," Puck wags his eyebrows provocatively.

Santana locks eyes with the half-naked blonde, her legs stretched out on the counter and her upper body propped up by her elbows, staring back at the Latina with an inquisitive and slightly hopeful look on her face. "Pass," the brunette mumbles before pushing Puck's arm off from around her shoulder and stalking out of the kitchen.

"Come _**on**_! You two doin' this is the highlight of every party!" Puck whiningly calls out amidst the collective groan of disappointment of the audience.

Brittany stares off where the other girl disappeared, too upset to think enough to follow her. It isn't until she feels Quinn tugging on her arm that she's able to kick-start her brain again. The other blonde hands her back her shirt and leads her out of the crowded space by her belt loop before she even finishes pulling her t-shirt back on. They both ignore the disapproving noises from the guys in the kitchen.

"Where're we going Q?" Brittany finally thinks to ask as they weave around a group of football players to make their way up the stairs. "Look, we're friends and I like you and think you're pretty and everything, but I kinda don't want to sleep with you. Don't get me wrong, you're great and everything, but I have a boyfriend and am, you know, in love with Santana," she babbles, her voice beginning to slur a little as the alcohol from earlier starts to take effect as she continues to let herself be led around.

"We're not up here to sleep together B," Quinn rolls her eyes, unable to stop the smirk. "I saw Santana come up here when you were putting your shirt on," she explains while trying to figure out where the brunette went.

"So…you want to have a threesome?" Brittany confusedly asks, trying to determine what the other girl is getting at.

At this, Quinn stops abruptly and turns around, nearly getting run over by Brittany, who just barely manages to stop at the abrupt halt. It takes only a moment to realize that the dancer is genuinely confused and not joking this time. One look in her slightly glassy eyes is enough to tell Quinn that the spiked punch has finally started to catch up with the other girl.

"No Britt. I just wanted to find Santana so we can make sure she's okay. She was really wasted downstairs," she patiently informs the taller blonde.

"Okay, good," Brittany beams. "I love you and everything Quinn, but I'm not sharing my Santana with you," she grins, wrapping both of her arms around the arm that's been leading her around and resting her head on her shoulder.

Quinn smiles down affectionately at her friend despite herself and the circumstances. She doesn't want to think about how borderline selfish it is of Brittany to still be calling Santana 'hers' considering their recent drama and the fact she's still with Artie…instantly feeling guilty for thinking something so negative about the taller girl. The moment is broken a moment later by a distinctive sound emanating from down the hall. "Maybe that's her," she winces sympathetically as someone empties their stomach in the bathroom.

Brittany doesn't say anything as they tentatively go down the hall and push open the door. She's somewhat relieved to find that it is, in fact, her former friend because, as hard as it is to see her like this it's still better than finding her up here with some guy…or worse, some random girl. For now, she decides not to delve into why the thought of Santana up here with another girl is somehow worse than the thought of her with some boy.

"Hey there," Brittany softly says to announce her presence as she disentangles herself from Quinn and goes to the other girl's side. Santana is far too sick and disoriented to even think to push the blonde away.

Quinn watches Brittany kneel down by the Latina, gently sweeping the hair off of the brunette's sweat-dampened face to hold it back while whispering words of comfort in her ear as she continues to throw up. She can't help the growing sense of discomfort as she feels that she's intruding on a deeply personal and intimate moment between the two.

After several long moments, when Santana seems to have _**finally**_ finished hurling her guts out, Brittany shifts so she's sitting rather than kneeling and draws the brunette down so her head is resting in the blonde's lap. While running her fingers comfortingly through Santana's hair, Brittany carefully reaches into her back pocket to pull out her phone.

"Quinn?" She quietly breaks the silence, her tone questioning as she sees the far off look on the other blonde's face. "Can you do me a favor?" She asks when she has her attention.

"Of course," she replies almost instantly, confusion clouding her features as she takes the phone being handed to her.

"Can you go into my contacts and find Mr. Schuester's number?" Brittany questions, nervously biting her lip as she watches the unresponsive brunette.

"Why?" Quinn can't help but ask, not following the other girl's line of thinking.

"He had all of us sign those pledges after that Alcohol Awareness assembly thing just in case something like this happened," Britt explains, her eyes never leaving the girl who's head she's cradling in her lap.

"What?" Quinn blurts, mostly surprised by the stunning amount of clarity she can sense in the other girl at this moment.

"She can't stay here and neither of us are really okay to drive. I don't think we should call either of our parents and I know her parents aren't even in town right now anyways. Everyone else we know is either here or asleep," she breaks down her reasoning.

"Do you think he'll be okay with giving Santana a ride? I mean, it's not like she's still in glee club or anything…" the other blonde trails off uncertainly as she eyes the passed out Latina.

"Just because Santana quit the club doesn't mean Mr. Shue stopped caring about her," Brittany firmly insists.

Not able to argue with that logic, Quinn simply nods before finding her teacher's number and dialing.

* * *

**20 Minutes Later**

The car is silent save for the quiet hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of clothing when one of them shifts in their seat. Out of the four occupants in the car, the only one not at all troubled by the awkward silence is Santana who has been asleep since getting in the car and was barely awake as it was when sitting out on the curb outside of Puck's house waiting for Mr. Schuester to arrive.

"Girls, I have to commend you for making the responsible decision to call me," Will is unable to keep himself from saying, his eyes briefly glancing at the unconscious Latina in the backseat curled up against Brittany.

"Yeah," Quinn replies distractedly from the front seat.

Will takes in the demeanor of the two conscious former Cheerios and the state of the current one, unsure whether or not he should pry. "Well, I must say that I'm glad to see that the three of you are all friends again," he offers with a small smile.

"We're not. Santana was just too drunk to yell at us," Brittany murmurs bitterly from the backseat. It's a tone Will has never heard from the ditzy blonde before and, until now, he didn't think the other girl even knew _**how**_ to be bitter, let alone what it even meant.

"I see," Will says for the sake of acknowledging the other girl more than anything. The car lapses back into silence again until he pulls up in front of Quinn's house. "You aren't going to have a problem coming home like this, are you?" He asks her with concern.

"No, I didn't drink a whole lot and my mother most likely passed out hours ago anyways," Quinn sighs, keeping her gaze trained on the pair in the backseat to avoid having to see the look on her teacher's face. "Britt, are you going to be okay with her?" She questions her friend, worry evident on her face.

"I'll be okay. I can handle Santana," Brittany smiles wryly, knowing that it's always been hard for others to understand how she and Santana were able to actually function as friends… especially given the brunette's sometimes prickly personality. Besides, this is far from the first time that she's had to take care of her drunk friend after a party...or even just alone at home after drunk-dialing the dancer in the middle of the night in tears.

"Alright, call me tomorrow," Quinn says, sounding more like a question. Brittany simply nods. "Thanks Mr. Schue," she sincerely directs towards her teacher as she gets out.

"You're welcome," he responds before she makes her way up the driveway. "So Brittany, where to?" He turns his attention to the only conscious girl left in the car, trying to sound upbeat.

Britt takes a moment to consider her options and the girl currently wrapped around her. Both of her parents are home and she hasn't had nearly enough to drink that they would give her a hard time about it. Her parents being neo-hippies means they're pretty lenient as long as she doesn't get too out of hand…which she never has. However, she'll have Santana with her and, while her parents have always loved the Latina like one of their own, she'd rather not have to explain to them why she's dragging the overly intoxicated girl home with her. She'd also rather not risk Santana waking up enough to make a scene about being there.

"Santana's. Her parents are out of town…again," she mumbles the last part with resentment in regards to them never being around. "Um, take a left at the stop sign three blocks up and a right on the main road," she tries to recall how to get there from Quinn's house because it's been a while since she's had to get there from here. It's even more difficult given how she doesn't know the names of any of the streets.

Luckily Will knows the area well enough to know about where they're going. It does pain him somewhat to find how little he knows about his glee club members, even Santana despite quitting the group. After nearly two years of trying, he thought he was finally getting somewhere with the Latina with her surprisingly emotional performance of _Landslide_ with Brittany and Holly. When it was over he thought that she had turned a major corner and was expecting to see a whole new Santana emerge from the experience. She'd never been more honest and open. It was apparent that no one had ever seen her so human before that…except Brittany, it seems. When she quit the club later that afternoon, he was beyond confused and more than a little disappointed to be losing her.

"Did you want to talk about it?" Will asks the blonde, partially out of curiosity but mostly because of the noticeable change in the former Cheerio since the performance and Santana's subsequent split from the group. She's been unusually subdued, smiling significantly less and has yet to blurt out something incredibly inappropriate and/or borderline insane.

Brittany knows that Santana's first instinct would be to insist everything is fine before putting her walls up even higher than before. However, she isn't Santana. "She's mad that I'm dating Artie," she explains vaguely.

"I never would have guessed that she had an interest in him," Mr. Schuester expresses his surprise at the news. A thought in the back of his mind tries to work its way into his consciousness, but he can't seem to grasp onto it just yet. _Something about them doing that song together…_

The blonde allows herself a brief moment to let her disgust over the thought of those two together show. "She _**so**_ doesn't. She's jealous that I'm dating _**him**_ instead of _**her**_," she spells it out, amazed that he's about as clueless as everyone else accuses _**her**_ of being.

After several false starts of opening and closing his mouth, Will finally manages an, "Oh." That thought in the back of his mind jumps to the surface and he realizes what has been in front of him the whole time.

"_**Yeaaaahh**_," Brittany draws out slowly, scrutinizing his expression in the rearview mirror. She glances down at Santana to make certain she's still asleep. "She didn't want to talk about our relationship or what anything meant, so I started dating Artie."

"I see," Will breathes out as he comes closer to the Latina's street, still trying to process the coherent and well-spoken Brittany that he didn't know existed.

"Mr. Schuester, I'm sorry," she apologizes, seemingly out of nowhere.

"For what?" He wonders, baffled.

"After that song with her and Ms. Holliday she came up to me at my locker and told me she loved me. I told her I loved her too, but that I wasn't going to break up with Artie. That's when she quit the glee club," Brittany explains quietly.

"I don't understand," Will says after a moment of trying to figure out what she's getting at.

At this, Brittany can't help but sigh as she sees the Latina's house up ahead. "Because Santana loves her reputation even more. I know she missed being a Cheerio, but the way she went running back to Coach Sylvester and slipped right back into her 'bitch' persona kinda proves my point," she informs him tiredly.

Will is struggling to come up with something to say as he pulls up in front of Santana's eerily dark house. "Is there anything I can do?" He offers.

"I don't think so," Brittany quietly replies after a moment.

"I'm sure things will turn out just fine. They usually do, right?" He questions rhetorically, an optimistic smile planted firmly on his face as he tries to cover how desperately he hopes that he's right. Deep down he isn't sure who he's trying to convince more, the blonde in the backseat or himself.

"Thanks for listening Mr. Schue," is her earnest response and she shoots him a shy half smile before turning her attention to waking the sleeping brunette. "C'mon San, time to get ready for school," she whispers, gently shaking the other girl.

"Pants to the moon, Freak," Santana murmurs incoherently, still sleeping.

Brittany blinks in disbelief at the nonsensical statement and Will stifles a laugh in the front seat. "We're going to be late for practice and you know how Coach Sylvester gets," she tries again.

"I'm up," the Latina blurts out as she opens her eyes and disentangles herself from the blonde. "WhereamI?" She jumbles all of her words together.

It takes a moment, but Brittany figures out that she tried to say. "Your house, Silly," she grins, hoping that Santana is drunk enough still that as long as she keeps things playful the other girl will forget that she's not supposed to be talking to her and won't notice that this 'conversation' doesn't make any sense.

"Oh, right," Santana nods before leaning heavily on her door with her shoulder and reaching over with her other arm to pull the handle. The door opens too quickly for Santana to anticipate and she nearly falls face-first onto the sidewalk. Luckily Brittany catches her and brings her back into a seated position. "I gots this," the brunette rolls her eyes indignantly as she shakes the other girl off of her.

"Whatever you say Boozy McHurls-a-ton," the blonde rolls her eyes as she watches the other girl stagger out of the car and take a couple of steps, her feet crossing awkwardly in front of the other before she trips herself and crashes ass-first onto the grass and stares accusingly at the car.

Will is barely able to stifle the laugh threatening to escape. "Sorry," he apologizes to an equally amused Brittany.

"It's like watching Bambi learn how to walk," she notes with a smirk before getting out as well. "I'll see you Monday, Mr. Schue," she says politely before closing the door.

Mr. Schuester waits and watches to make sure the pair makes it inside safely. After several false starts and failed attempts to keep the inebriated Latina upright, they eventually make it to the door. Much fumbling and awkward groping later and the blonde procures a set of keys from the other girl and they finally enter the house. Will breathes out a quiet laugh and shakes his head. He's letting himself get whatever enjoyment he can from the moment because he knows he has the rest of the drive home to process everything he's learned and let the concern set it. It doesn't look like he'll be getting any more sleep tonight.

* * *

**Sunday Morning**

The feeling that all of the Master Cleanse she's been drinking lately has finally decided to rise up and stage a coup is what initially wakes up the Latina. She knows from experience that booze and Sue's toxic concoction do _**not**_ get along well and that she'll only suffer more if she tries to rush out of bed. Hesitantly, she begins to crack open her eyes only to immediately slam them shut again when the sunlight stings as if Sue used her confetti cannon to shoot shattered glass into her eyes. Santana would be more than happy to stay in bed all day, but she really has to pee. Well, that and the inside of her mouth feels – and _**tastes**_ – like the inside of a cat's litter box.

Chancing the light again, Santana finds that it isn't so bad this time around and if she squints she can probably avoid permanent blindness. Blinking several times helps her adjust to the light enough to be able to take in her surroundings. She is infinitely relieved to find herself staring at the black wall of her own room, but curious as to how she actually ended up here. Deciding that mentally retracing her drunken steps the night before can wait until she attends to her bladder, she moves to sit up…but an arm tightening itself around her waist impedes her actions.

Santana's eyes widen at the realization that she's not alone and the sensation of a nose nuzzling the back of her neck prompts her to lift the blanket up just enough to check on her current state of undress. She's comforted to find herself still fully clothed save for her shoes. At this point, she doesn't think she can handle the shame of adding another notch on her bedpost and reaffirming everyone's perception of her as the school slut, as Karofsky so kindly reminded her of the night before. She knows that, at nearly 17 years old, she already has more than enough regrets to last her several lifetimes.

The Latina is pulled out of her dreary mood when she begins to register the feel of the arm around her waist and the warm hand casually resting against the bare skin of her abdomen just under her t-shirt for the first time. Lifting the blanket up once again, she is struck by the familiar contrast of pale peach against tan. With an inscrutable sensation beginning to form in the pit of her stomach, she turns her head slightly and it met with an all-too-recognizable tangle of blonde hair.

Santana clenches her eyes shut for a moment and berates herself for being so weak as to let the other girl get to her like this. Carefully she removes the hand from her body and moves away enough to tuck Brittany's arm against her own body. Gingerly, she slips out of her bed and makes her way to the door. She pauses as she clicks the door open when the sleeping girl begins to stir, only to pull the pillow Santana had been using to her and snuggle up with it in lieu of the brunette. A moment later and Santana's out of her room and on her way to the bathroom.

**15 Minutes Later**

Brittany's lips unconsciously curl into a soft smile as she begins to wake up. Without opening her eyes, she nuzzles her face into the pillow in her arms and inhales dreamily. Even after everything, she can't help but feel comforted by the familiar scent enveloping her, almost as if Santana herself has her arms wrapped around her once again. The blonde allows herself a few moments to indulge in the sweet scent of honeysuckle and jasmine with undertones of spicy cinnamon, appropriately enough. There is a hint of something else there too that she just can't place, something uniquely 'Santana'.

Fully awake, Brittany takes note of the sound of the running water from the shower down the hall. Right about now is when she becomes painfully aware of how cold and lonely she is in that bed without her counterpart. It wasn't that long ago that Brittany wouldn't have thought twice about slipping into the bathroom, stripping down and joining the Latina. But now? Well, she has Artie and Santana has made it clear that she wants nothing to do with her anymore. Then again, the Tylenol and glass of water on what they've always considered 'her' side of the bed suggests that, at the very least, Santana still cares. Brittany can't help but smile at the thought.

Despite not drinking much the night before and not feeling particularly hung over, Brittany takes the pills just as she hears the water shut off. With bated breath, she waits for her former friend to come back in. After several minutes – though it feels like _**years**_ to the blonde – the door quietly slides open and Santana steps in, startled to find the other girl awake and sitting up in bed, staring right back at her.

* * *

Lima-Heights-Adjacent!Santana (with optional drunkenness) is so fun to write…but hopefully I did it justice as well. It always cracks me up on the show and I wanted to try and include that in this story.

Next chapter will really kick things off so that the plot of this will actually begin to feel like its' moving forward. It will also signify the end of the 'set up' phase of the story that's meant to take place between the end of _Sexy_ and some of _Original Song_.  
Expect some Brittany/Quinn friendship moments and some mild Artie bashing (nothing too bad). Also, Sue will make an appearance and be the catalyst to set things in motion. I actually really love the dialogue between Sue and Santana in the end of the next one so I hope it really _**is**_ still in-character and not actually worse than I think it is.

Finally, next chapter will reveal another odd friendship of sorts between Santana and a character that I find tragically underused. It's definitely not a friendship I've seen much of, if at all, and I'm somewhat anxious about their characterization. Still, you'll see that Santana has at least one ally.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 05 December 2011


	4. Smoke Break Conversations

**A/N**: This is where the story will really start to take off and begin to feel like it's _**finally**_ moving forward. The first three chapters all occurred in the time between _Sexy_ but before _Original Song_.

**A/N2**: In this chapter, I introduce my favorite 'friendship' that will never be canon on the show no matter how much I wish it to be. Also, I really love how the dialogue between Sue and Santana in the end turned out.

**Spoilers**: Briefly mentions some things from _Original Song_.

**Warnings** : Language, very mild and minor Artie-bashing.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Smoke Break Conversations **

"Hey," Santana breathes out self-consciously, gripping the towel around her body even tighter and avoiding eye contact.

"Hey," Brittany replies quietly, keeping her gaze fixed on the brunette in hopes that the other girl would at least _**look**_ at her.

The Latina fixes her eyes on the poster on the black wall behind her bed. "You're still here," she points out unnecessarily.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Brittany asks, scrunching her brows together in confusion.

Santana immediately locks her eyes onto the blonde's, searching them for any hint of insincerity or sarcasm. "You _**know**_ why," she insists, exasperated.

It takes a moment before the realization of what the other girl is talking about sinks in. "Just because you're hurt and angry and have been avoiding me doesn't mean that I suddenly stopped wanting to be around you. Even if you don't think so now, I _**do**_ still love you San," Brittany replies sincerely.

Tightly closing her eyes and turning her head slightly, Santana releases a deep sigh as her shoulders sag, defeated. "I really need to _**not**_ hear that from you right now," she says more softly than she would've liked.

Brittany tilts her head to the side as she stares at the brunette and Santana has to fight back her smile because of how much she looks like a confused puppy right now. "Actually, I think it's _**exactly**_ what you need to hear right now," she contradicts the Latina's weak assertion.

"It isn't," Santana whispers.

"You even told me that you love me too so…" the blonde ignores the other girl's interruption.

"I honestly don't know what I was thinking," she all but sneers in response, the painful memory enough to pull her inner bitch back to the forefront in this conversation.

The return of her former best friend's façade is enough to cause a brief flash of hurt to ghost across her features. "I don't know why you're doing all of this," she admits in reference to the attitude as well as quitting glee and rejoining the Cheerios.

"You should go. I'm sure your parents are wondering where you are by now," she finally manages to say after several moments of silence, more than a little bitterness seeping into her tone.

Brittany picks up on it and her expression softens since she knows that the other girl has a great deal of pent-up resentment towards her own parents from over the years. It's always been a bit of a sore subject with the Latina. "San, I-"

Whatever Brittany is about to say is cut off by the chorus of John Lennon's _Watching the Wheels_ blasting from her purse. She shoots Santana an apologetic look before pulling out her phone to silence it and send it to voicemail before turning her full attention back to the other girl.

"Santana, look, I don't want to-"

Once again Brittany is cut off by her phone going off.

"Just fucking _**answer it**_!" Santana snaps, tired of hearing it…and also wanting to prolong whatever it is she has to say. However, she must admit that she finds the choice for Artie's ringtone to be borderline amusing.

"Sorry, I…" Brittany trails off as she answers her phone. "Hey Artie," she greets him with poorly feigned enthusiasm, her eyes darting over to Santana to witness her non-reaction. "Why are you…Oh my god! I totally forgot. I'm so sorry…Yeah…" she pauses at his last question, weighing her options. "I'm at a friend's," she finally replies, not missing the way the Latina narrows her eyes. "No! It's fine…It's close…Not long…You too," she hangs up the phone, almost too afraid to look up and see the expression on the other girl's face.

"Hot date with Skidmark?" Santana asks rhetorically, her attempt at a smirk looking more like a grimace.

"We're going to the zoo," Brittany cringes as soon as the words leave her mouth and she hears how it sounds, not even bothering to chastise the Latina for the nickname.

"He treats you like a child, B," the darker girl points out in exasperation.

For her part, Brittany tries to hold back a smile at the use of the familiar nickname. "He's trying," she shrugs in response.

"You're not a six year old nor are you an idiot," Santana continues.

"He knows that," Brittany finds herself defending him though she has no idea why.

"_**Does**_ he?" She challenges.

Biting her lip, the blonde knows that she needs to come clean about telling the glee club the truth about them, but afraid of the Head Cheerios' reaction. "Yeah. They _**all**_ do," she confesses vaguely.

The Latina begins to nod in acceptance before the full impact of those words hit her and she gives the other girl a surprised look. "Wait, you _**told**_ them?"

"Yeah," Brittany nods casually in an effort to keep the Latina from making it into a big deal.

"And you _**still**_ get treated like this?" Santana questions, her anger rising exponentially, especially when the blonde shrugs noncommittally in response. "Come on Britt, you are _**so**_ much smarter than any of those losers give you credit for," Santana sighs, unconsciously slipping back into her former protective/reassuring role.

Brittany locks eyes with the brunette, tilting her head to the side in thought. "So are you," she finally replies, her tone quiet and sincere.

Finding that her mouth has mysteriously gone dry at the other girl's words, the Head Cheerio idly licks her lips and averts her gaze. When she turns her attention back to the taller girl and opens her mouth to respond Brittany's phone goes off _**once again**_ causing her to snap her mouth shut and stare down at the floor.

Fumbling to silence her phone, Brittany is shocked that her hands are shaking violently with nervous energy. She glances up at the Latina only to find that she's shifted her focus onto the carpet under her feet. "San…"she tries to get the other girl's attention, her voice almost cracking on that one syllable as she takes in how defeated her former friend looks.

"You should go. Don't want to keep your date waiting," Santana cuts off whatever the other girl is considering saying. "You still have some clothes hanging up in the closet that you can change into. I'll just get changed in the bathroom," she offers quickly before pulling a few random articles of clothing from her dresser and darting out of her room.

Brittany casts a longing stare after the other girl before running a tired hand through her slightly tangled hair. She slips out of bed and sighs as she goes into the walk-in closet to find something to change into.

Fifteen minutes later, Santana cautiously re-enters her bedroom, eyes scanning the area for the other girl. Satisfied that she's alone again, she releases a deep breath and it's almost as if she's been holding it the entire time Brittany was here. Dropping heavily onto her bed, face-first, she finds herself inhaling the other girl's scent, which seems to have clung to every surface the taller girl touched. Hyacinths and Starbursts, her favorite candy next to Dots. Shaking herself from her thoughts, Santana sits up and feels the emptiness of the house consuming her. She stubbornly refuses to let the tears fall because Santana Lopez _**doesn't**_ cry...even if there's no one else there to witness it but her and her misery.

Too caught up in her brooding, she doesn't even notice the note on her dresser written in Brittany's distinctive bubbly script. _Please talk to me._ _I miss you .I still love you. __**Always**__. - B_

* * *

**The Zoo – An Hour Later**

Artie has to make a conscious effort not to sigh when he notices his girlfriend checking her phone for the umpteenth time this morning. He thought that this would be enjoyable for the blonde considering her love of animals and how she's able to enjoy the simplest things. Even though she's apparently been hiding that she's secretly one of the smartest students at their school, surely she couldn't have been faking _**all**_ of it. Right?

"Are you not having fun?" He dares to ask as she divides her attention between looking down at her phone and back up at the penguins waddling around in their artificial habitat.

Brittany plasters on her brightest grin as she turns to face her boyfriend, having almost completely forgot he was right beside her. "I love the zoo…even though last year when Santana and I came here, one of the monkeys – one like Rafiki from _The Lion King_, _**not**_ like Abu from _Aladdin_ – decided to stand on a rock and masturbate," she tells him with her typically clueless monotone voice that has become her trademark. She didn't even seem to realize her slip in mentioning the other girl.

This time Artie can't bother to hold back from sighing. "I don't want you to feel like you have to keep up that clueless façade with me. I'll still like you if you just tell me that it was a baboon instead of using ridiculously-named Disney references."

Brittany heaves out a sigh of her own before snapping her phone shut, resigned that she has _**not**_, in fact missed a text or call from Santana, and turns her full attention to the wheelchair-bound boy. "Rafiki isn't _**just**_ a baboon," she begins, trying not to get too annoyed when he seems to be preparing himself for a nonsensical rant. "He's a mandrill-baboon hybrid and, the name 'Rafiki', by the way, is a Swahili word meaning 'friend'. His name isn't ridiculous, it was chosen for a specific reason," she explains everything clearly and concisely, never once breaking eye contact.

The dark-haired boy gapes at her for a moment before shaking his head. "Um…" he trails off, not sure how exactly to respond to the unexpected trivia.

"Can we go see the jungle cat exhibit now? I promised Lord Tubbington that I'd take pictures for him," Brittany smiles innocently, her fingers itching to check her inbox for a text from a certain Latina…_**again**_.

Artie hesitantly returns her smile. "Of course," he replies, clearly relieved that his girlfriend is back to her familiar behavior.

"Yay!" The blonde claps her hands before placing them on the handles of his wheelchair as she begins to steer him towards their next destination.

Not sure if he should be concerned that Brittany isn't filling the silence with her usual idle, but amusing, chatter, Artie allows his mind to wander to something that's been bothering him since he first called the other girl. "What friend's house were you at this morning?" He asks.

"What?" Brittany asks, only having paid partial attention to his question.

"When I called you and you said that you were at a friend's house, which friend? I would've figured you were with Quinn, but you would've just said you were with her," he elaborates.

The blonde dancer allows the smile to slip off her face, knowing it won't matter since he's not even looking at her. She thought he'd automatically just assume that she was with Quinn since she doesn't have any other friends. Not really. Not since Santana. "I was with Santana," she admits nonchalantly, hoping that he won't read too much into it.

"You _**what**_?" Artie blurts, a feeling of dread beginning to creep over him.

"She got really messed up at that party last night. Quinn and I called Mr. Shue and got her home 'cause she'd never make it there on her own and I couldn't just leave her by herself once I got her in," Brittany defends her actions, not sure why she even _**has**_ to in the first place.

"Britt…" Artie breathes out in exasperation. "She's just trying to manipulate-"

"She doesn't have _**anyone**_, don't you get that?" Is her almost desperate attempt to get him to see where she's coming from.

"That's kind of her own fault," the other boy shrugs, not particularly concerned with the bitchy Cheerio…that his girlfriend apparently still has feelings for.

"Look, kitties!" Brittany blurts out when they get to the jungle cat exhibit. She immediately breaks away from him to pull out her phone and subtly check her inbox – empty (_**still**_) – and start taking pictures for her cat. Her attempt at escaping the conversation and her increasing anger at her boyfriend's ignorance is somewhat less than subtle.

Artie shakes his head and wheels himself over to her, knowing that he's lost her for the rest of the day and that their conversation is officially over…for now.

* * *

**School – Monday, 12:26 pm**

Allowing the heavy door to the cafeteria to slam shut behind her, Santana runs anxious hands over the top of her head continuing down to smooth out the hair of her ponytail as she stands in the empty hallway. Another 20 minutes of the other Cheerios' insipid blathering and she would be able to _**physically**_ feel her IQ dropping. With barely a second thought, she turns right and confidently strides down the hall, her destination clear in her mind.

There is an oft-forgotten auxiliary entrance in the school's east wing because that side of the school doesn't get a lot of traffic. Each of the four wings of the school is specialized in some way, for the most part at least, and they each have a separate entrance. The front of the school is almost always teeming with students and faculty because that's where the cafeteria is and where all of the basic core classes meet. All of the advanced core classes and foreign languages meet in the back of the school, near the gymnasium and the Cheerios' private restricted locker room (and, in effect, Sue Sylvester's cheer office). A majority of the electives – most of the visual and performing arts – as well as the glee club, meet in the west wing of the school by the auditorium. Right in the middle of the school is the library and computer labs where all of the computer/AV-related classes and clubs meet. In the east wing, however, the only classes that meet are shop, home-ec, astronomy, and dance. Also, each only had one class a day and some semesters some of them didn't even meet at all. As a matter of fact, it is so deserted that most of the lockers in that wing are completely unassigned, with the rare exception being Santana's, which she had moved after her confession and rejection. It is this entrance in the desolate side of the school that Santana makes her way to knowing that there is almost no chance of anyone seeing her since there won't be another class meeting down here for another two periods.

Stepping out into the harsh light, Santana hesitates for only the briefest of moments before she proceeds to take a seat on the top step, like usual. Her companion beside her watches her blandly, just as he has been since she first exited the building. Paying the other man no mind as he turns his head to breathe out the smoke from his nearly finished cigarette, she pulls a pack of Marlboro Ultra Light 100s from her purse, shaking it to confirm that there's still something in there. She opens the box, plucks one out and begins to dig through her small purse for a lighter. Coming up empty, Santana throws the near-empty box into her purse and releases a resigned sigh as she turns to the man on her left.

Without even having to ask, he flicks his own lighter, shielding the flame from the light breeze as the brunette leans in and inhales to light the end of her own cigarette. "Thanks," she nods in gratitude once she pulls away and he just shrugs nonchalantly, continuing to stare out into the abyss of the wooded area passed the school's parking lot.

"Glee Club's not nearly as fun without you," he says after several long moments, not bothering to look at her as he does so.

Santana arches an eyebrow at his random start to the conversation she'd expected from the moment she stepped outside, not that anyone would believe these two would share a conversation about anything in the first place. "I'm sure they'll start with their petty drama again soon…solely for your entertainment, of course," she snarks.

The sandy-haired man smirks at the Latina, turning to her once again as he stubs out the butt of his cigarette on the next step between his feet. "They don't have your charm," he teases good-naturedly and she merely side-eyes a mild glare at him. "And I can see that Brittany misses you," he adds seriously.

Groaning in annoyance, Santana rolls her eyes. "Come on Brad, I don't need to hear this crap from _**you**_ too," she states firmly.

"Maybe you do," the piano player retorts casually.

"You _**know**_ that I've been over Glee Club for a while now. Brittany shooting me down after we did _Landslide_ and after I told her I loved her was really just the push I needed to quit," she informs him self-consciously.

Brad stares blankly at her for a few moments before turning his attention back to the woods. "I understand," he acknowledges her feelings on the matter and she shoots him an incredulous look. "She decided to stay with Vanilla Ice instead of being with someone she actually loves," he elaborates.

"She told me she loved him too and she didn't want to hurt his feelings by dumping him," the teen sneers before taking an aggressive drag off her cigarette.

He studies the petite Head Cheerio for several moments. "If it's any consolation, she loves you a lot more." Santana snorts in response and he, correctly, interprets it to mean that it's of no consolation at all. "It doesn't make any sense for her to pick him."

"It's because I'm too afraid to come out to the school and tell them I'm totally a lady-lovin' lesbo that's in love with her best friend who loves her back and openly be in a big _**gay**_ relationship," she scoffs, as much at how unrealistic Brittany's expectations of her are as at how poorly she handled the entire situation.

Brad allows himself a moment to take it all in. "You're just not ready to come out. It's okay to be afraid and she shouldn't fault you for that. Her staying with Mr. Roboto is only going to hurt more the longer they're together," he states.

"Glad there's at least _**one**_ person on my side," Santana mumbles around her cigarette.

"Of course," Brad's faint smile is barely detectable through his facial hair, but it's still there.

"So," Santana begins as she breathes out the last puff of her cigarette before putting it out on the same step as the shaggy-haired pianist is occupying. "What are those losers up to this week?" She questions conversationally, a hint of a smirk in her tone.

"Yappy the Clown suggested everyone do original songs since some crappy band sent them a cease and desist letter to prevent them from performing one of their songs…or something," he shrugs the last part, a little hazy on the questionable logic. "I suspect Sue's behind it, but I didn't say anything because if they aren't smart enough to figure it out for themselves then they don't deserve to have someone just _**tell**_ them."

"True," the Latina chuckles. "So what did they decide to do once everyone was done throwing stones at the little troll for suggesting that?"

"Well, Juno agreed with Yappy so now the group has decided to go with original songs for Regionals this weekend," Brad explains.

"Huh," Santana grunts thoughtfully at the news. "It's been two years Brad, have you still not learned the names of the members of New Directions?" She smirks.

"Sure, it's just easier to remember who they are by using descriptors," he tells her honestly, earning a laugh in response. Before either of them can say anything else the bell rings, signaling the end of the lunch period.

"Well, Tinkles, it's been a pleasure, as always," Santana smiles genuinely at the other man.

"Likewise," Brad nods slightly, both standing up to head back into the building. "Santana," he says before she can pull open the door, "if you're certain that you are, in fact, gay you should really consider telling Sue. " Given their most recent topic, it isn't lost on either of them the significance of him actually using her real name and not a 'descriptor'.

"Yeah, right," the girl snorts sarcastically.

"She gave Kurt hell for not telling her personally and she might kick you off if she hears it from someone else first," he explains.

This gives Santana pause for a moment before she sighs. "I'll think about it…Thanks," she adds the last part bashfully. He merely shrugs in response as they reenter the building. She arches an amused eyebrow at him. "I guess this is the part where you turn back into a pumpkin, right Silent Bob?" She jokes, a smile playing on her lips at the mention of him resorting back to nothing but facial expressions and gestures once they step back inside.

Brad simply smirks in response before they go their separate ways.

* * *

**Glee – 4:00 pm**

Quinn sighs as she enters the choir room, not thinking twice about taking the seat next to Brittany in the back row. Seeing the other girl sitting in the chair she always used to sit in (with Santana by her side) before everything went to hell tugs at the shorter blonde's heartstrings.

"Do you want to talk about it B?" She asks her friend quietly.

"I don't know," the other girl shrugs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and prop her head up in her hands.

"Did…did you get in a fight with Artie?" Quinn asks, changing her question at the last moment, barely holding back from bringing up Santana just yet. She briefly glances at the boy in question that she couldn't help but notice sitting dejectedly by himself when she walked in.

"Kind of…A little…Not really," Brittany falters at the question, not sure how to really categorize what happened between her and the other boy at the zoo yesterday.

"I see…" Quinn trails off in a tone conveying that she did not, in fact, understand and silently prompting the other blonde to elaborate.

"Aside from him not being too happy about spending the night over at Santana's?" She asks sounding slightly bitter and more than a little sarcastic.

"Yeah, aside from that," the shorter blonde smirks at the tone.

Brittany sighs as she gathers her thoughts enough to explain. "It's just that he told me that he didn't want me to feel like I had to act dumb for his benefit or something-"

"That's good, right?" Quinn interjects, confused at how that would upset the other girl. She holds her tongue from further comments when she notices the glare the dancer shoots her for interrupting her.

"Then he got all uncomfortable and insecure and intimidated when I actually _**tried**_ to be more like myself...the way I've _**always**_ been able to be when I'm with Santana," Brittany finishes her original thought.

After a moment of wrapping her mind around what the other girl just said, Quinn can't help but scowl at the back of wheelchair-bound boy's head. "That was really shitty of him," she concludes.

"I know," Brittany breathes out in exasperation. "I had to throw out some random, ridiculous comment about taking pictures of the jungle cat exhibit for Lord Tubbington just to get him to relax," she rolls her eyes.

"And he just let it go?" The shorter girl asks, unable to believe that Artie essentially let Brittany know that he wasn't comfortable with her not being a complete idiot after all.

"Of course. He didn't want to acknowledge how misplaced his superiority complex over me – and sometimes even _**Santana**_ – had been this whole time. That was when he asked whose house I stayed at the night before since I wasn't home when he showed up on Sunday morning."

"And you just _**told**_ him?" Quinn shakes her head over her friend just admitting it.

"He asked me and I figured I owed him the truth. He got a little pissy with me and tried to imply that I was stupid when he told me that San was trying to manipulate me or something. He doesn't get that we literally _**just**_ slept," Brittany sighs.

Quinn takes a moment to consider her blonde friend. She feels a pang of guilt when she realizes how stressed out the other girl is, and has been for quite some time, but she never really took the time to notice until now.

"Hey B, if it's any consolation, I'm proud of you for no longer hiding who you are. I like this side of you," Quinn smiles encouragingly as she reaches over and briefly squeezes the other girl's hand for support.

"Thanks Q," Brittany grins, her mood brightening significantly. "Now, how hard do you think it'll be to convince San to stop hiding who _**she**_ is?" She wonders, her cheeky tone belied by the fact that her easy smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"What do you mean? I thought you said she missed being a Cheerio," Quinn wonders, slightly confused at what the other girl is trying to get at.

The taller girl stares blankly at her friend for several moments before rolling her eyes when it becomes apparent that she isn't following. "_**Gay**_, Quinn. _**Santana**_ is _**gay**_. _**That's**_ what she's hiding," she explains emphatically while still managing to keep her voice down.

"Right, that," Quinn blushes at what the other girl was obviously referring to. "Santana always has to make things a lot harder than they need to be, you know that," she finally answers the taller blonde's previous question.

"Yeah," Brittany acquiesces, her shoulders slumping. "I just wish she wasn't so afraid to be herself because then I know everyone would love her and they'd know what I've known for years: that she's, like, the awesomest girl in this school…no offense," she adds as an afterthought, not wanting her friend to feel neglected or anything.

Quinn merely shrugs, not particularly affected by Brittany claiming that Santana is more awesome than she is. "I get it. No one knows and understands Santana better than you. So, I believe you when you say that there's a good person hiding underneath all those layers of bitch," she smirks.

Brittany can't help but laugh at the other girl. "I appreciate that Q. You're a really good friend," she offers sincerely, grateful that Quinn's been there for her over the last couple of weeks.

"I just want you to be happy," is the shorter blonde's honest reply. In fact, Quinn is a firm believer that it should be considered a felony for anyone to make the other girl sad at all.

Any response Brittany may have had is cut off when Mr. Schuester walks into the choir room. "Sorry I'm late you guys," he sheepishly apologizes, as per usual. He sets down his bag and turns to the kids, an enthusiastic smile planted firmly on his face as he rubs his hands together expectantly. "So, who's ready to perform their original song?" He asks eagerly, his smile never leaving.

Brittany rolls her eyes and starts counting the minutes until it's time to go home.

* * *

**Sue's Office – 5:00 pm**

Santana has long since learned that the best way to handle an impromptu 'conference' with Sue Sylvester is with silence and facing forward with a blank stare firmly in place. Though she is not particularly afraid of the other woman, the Latina still isn't dumb enough to risk crossing her either. So, she waits patiently, making sure not to fidget, while her coach scrutinizes her from the other side of the desk, her elbows on the wood surface with her fingers locked together up in front her face.

"As you know, there are few people in this world more concerned with the well-being of America's youth than one Sue Sylvester," the black and red tracksuit-clad woman states, her tone almost daring the girl in front of her to contradict her declaration.

The Latina silently quirks an eyebrow but chooses to play along. "You're more than just a role model, but also a paragon of benevolence with a heart of gold. I'm honored to be in the presence of someone as magnanimous as yourself," she deadpans.

"You truly are too kind, but really, I do it for the children," Sue replies evenly, her voice saturated with false modesty as she fights back a smirk at the teen's response. "Now, be that as it may, our dear Principal Figgins has recently brought to my attention that this school seems to have something of a problem with the issue of bullying."

"You don't say," Santana states, not even bothering to pretend to be shocked, her tone sounding more bored than anything.

"I was just as surprised as you," the coach shakes her head in dismay, acting as though the captain of her Cheerios had been devastated by the news. "Apparently he'd read an article in _U.S. News and World Report_ about America's Top 50 Best and Worst Schools for Bullying that listed McKinley as the second worst, right behind some backwards hick town in Texas or something. Had it not been for him catching an episode of _20/20_ detailing the _**effects**_ of bullying last night, then neither of us would be sitting here right now."

"_**Okay**_," the Cheerio draws out, unsure where this conversation is going at this point.

"After extensively interviewing the student body, our beloved Maharishi came to the conclusion that, as a group, my Cheerios are the biggest bullies in the school," Coach Sylvester points out, barely able to contain her pride and amusement.

"I am _**appalled**_," Santana grins, sounding anything but. "I would have thought the football players would have been worse," she muses.

"Not since _**Bieste**_ came in and 'reformed' those hulking mongoloids," Sue practically spits the other coach's name out. "One or two may cause problems here and there, but not nearly on the same scale as my entire squad. Figgins even named _**you**_, specifically, as seemingly the biggest perpetrator of bullying using both direct _**and**_ indirect means as well as mental and emotional abuse…but you come in third with physical bullying," she continues on, glancing down at her notes before her on her desk.

"_**Third**_?" The Latina blurts out before she can help herself, sounding almost affronted by the notion that two others beat her out of the top spot in something like this.

"Behind David Karofsky and Azimio Adams," Sue explains.

"So, even though the two most violent bullies in the school are football players, the Cheerios are somehow worse than them?" Santana's anger begins to seep into her tone.

"Those two are the only bullies left on the team, but they've been known to slam other students into lockers or throw them into the dumpsters. They may throw the occasional slushy, but, if I'm not mistaken, your first week back on the Cheerios, you ordered a mass slushying throughout the school courtesy of the squad," Sue studies the other girl closely.

"So, am I like, in trouble or something?" The Latina huffs out, wondering if _**that's**_ the reason why Sue called her to her office, though not bothering to deny the allegations.

"No," Coach Sylvester simply answers before shuffling the papers in front of her to reorder her thoughts. "You're not currently dating anyone, are you?" She asks, though it sounds more like a statement than anything.

"No," Santana answers carefully, not sure she understands the change of topic.

"Perfect. You're going to start dating David Karofsky," Sue grins deviously, everything working according to her plan.

The Latina arches an unimpressed eyebrow, not sure what the jock has to do with anything, but seeing one of the gaping flaws in getting the other boy go out with her. "As _**awesome**_ as that sounds, he won't be interested," she points out, trying to contain her amusement.

"Of course he will!" The Cheerio coach barks out, not able to comprehend why the other boy would even think to hesitate if given the chance to be with the Head Cheerio. "My sources tell me that he's single as well so there's nothing stopping him."

"Well, aside from the fact that Karofsky hates me-"

"No he doesn't," Sue brushes the comment off.

"Oh no, he does. I've made sure of it," Santana corrects the other woman, more than a little pride seeping into her tone at the perceived accomplishment. The older woman gestures for her to continue. "Karofsky's gay," she gets right to the point, almost feeling guilty once she hears herself say the words aloud, thus outing the other boy. She would literally **_murder_ **someone if they did the same thing to her...or at least set them on fire.

Sue Sylvester's grin returns with a vengeance, no longer simply daunting, but now downright menacing. "Well, this is even better than I'd hoped. This will save me no less than," she pauses to glance down at her notes, "five steps and, approximately, two months of waiting," she states.

"What are you planning?" Santana finds herself reluctantly asking, not sure if she really wants to know.

"I'm sure you're familiar with the term 'blackmail'," Sue prompts.

"You _**know**_ I am…you've met my family," the teen rolls her eyes self-deprecatingly.

At that, the coach's smile falters for the briefest of moments before she catches herself. "Well, that's how you'll get him to '_**miraculously**_' get passed how much he hates you so he can be your boyfriend," Sue announces triumphantly.

"Why do I even _**need**_ him to be my boyfriend in the first place?" Santana sighs.

"So it will be all the more believable when you '_**convince**_' him to start an anti-bullying club with you. And, in case you're inferior teenage brain is too primitive to understand, by 'convince' I, once again, mean 'blackmail'," Coach Sylvester snarks, as if this was only the most logical situation that she could have been leading up to.

The Head Cheerio takes a moment to wrap her mind around what the other woman is telling her to do…and she just can't seem to reconcile the idea of her coach, a total tyrant herself, wanting to start an anti-bullying club. "_**Why**_?" She sneers distastefully.

"Considering that the school's biggest bully is the captain of _**my**_ Cheerios, it would look a lot better for the squad – and myself, of course – if she was also the same person to start a club getting rid of that very behavior," Sue begins, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the girl in question. "Also, the fact that the two most mentioned bullies would be running this club means that most of your work will be done once _**you**_ stop bullying."

"Okay," Santana nods thoughtfully, going over everything the other woman's said already. "What's in it for you? Other than not having to worry about a negative write-up in _Cheer!_ magazine… if Figgins' investigation results ever got out, that is," she inquires, being more specific when she sees the coach about to pounce on the most obvious answer.

Coach Sylvester narrows her eyes at the girl, taking a moment to both resent and approve of her deductive reasoning prowess. "Given the Maharishi's newfound quest to make this school safe for any and all losers who walk its hallowed halls, as well as his total ineptitude when it comes to coming up with any effective policies himself, he will be more than willing to support – and _**fund**_ – this little venture in any way he possibly can," she answers honestly…mostly.

"And with you, naturally, being the faculty sponsor for the club, you'll be _**more**_ _**than**_ happy to reallocate some of those funds back into the Cheerios' budget," the Latina rolls her eyes, filling in the blanks for what the other woman's master plan will be.

"Don't worry. I don't plan on asking him to cut back on the glee club's budget…I _**did**_ read over our contract before signing it after all," the older woman assures her mockingly. "I figured I would throw that boozy disgrace, Brenda Castle, under the bus and put a dent in the badminton team's budget," she answers the unspoken question with a touch of bitterness.

Santana knows better than to mention the 'Olivia Newton-John' incident, but that doesn't stop the slight smirk from forming. "So all of this is just to get more money for the Cheerios and make Ms. Castle look bad?" She attempts to sum up the other woman's goals.

"And to clear up the Cheerios' reputation as a squad full of evil bitches and put a stop to any burgeoning rumors about their cruel behavior being, in any way, a direct reflection of _**my**_ influence as their coach," Sue notes.

"Right…'_**rumors**_'," the Cheerio doesn't bother trying to hide her sarcasm and Sue narrows her eyes in response. "Isn't all of this, I don't know…_**illegal**_?" She questions, not sure what kind of repercussions to expect if they get caught.

"How do you mean?" Sylvester prompts, her neutral tone giving nothing away.

"Aside from using extortion to get a gay jock to go along with this, I'm pretty sure that you're talking about money laundering," Santana elaborates on her concerns.

"I forgot your mother is a lawyer," the coach mumbles under her breath, earning a quirked eyebrow in response. "This is something totally different," she assures the other girl in a hopefully convincing tone.

For her part, Santana certainly doesn't trust the other woman at her word, but she also knows that, if Sue _**does**_ get caught, she'd never implicate her…she has years' worth of dirt on the cheer coach to ensure that that would never happen. So, with a shrug, she makes her decision. "What do you need me to do?"

An hour later, when Santana exits the office and her head stops spinning from the depravity of her scheming coach, she can't help but feel a wave of disappointment wash over her. When she first went into the office, she had psyched herself up to come out to Coach Sylvester about being gay. However, the more Sue spoke, the more she knew that this was _**not**_ the time to do so. She can't help but wonder if there ever _**would**_ be a good time to tell Sue…or _**anyone**_, for that matter.

* * *

So, we had some good old-fashioned awkwardness for Santana and Brittany. Britt and Artie are experiencing some weirdness (and discontent on Britt's part) in their relationship. We had a little more bonding between Brittany and Quinn. Santana and Brad's odd friendship has been brought to light. Brad also speaks! While not a regularly appearing character in this, expect him to pop up every once in a while. He's almost like the glee club's mole and occasionally updates Santana in what's going on with them.

Sue's (potentially illegal) plan has been exposed. Now, this being Sue, I don't find it too hard to believe that she'd come up with an unnecessarily complicated plan to increase the Cheerio budget, get back at a colleague, get on Figgins' good side and look like a positive role model. It hopefully helps serve as a catalyst for some of the stuff from the show to still happen that otherwise wouldn't. In this version of events, Santana has no reason to go after Karofsky or want to be Prom Queen because, on the show, she only wanted Prom Queen to get Brittany and she only started the Bully Whips to win Prom Queen. She otherwise has no incentive for any of that in _**this**_ story.

Next chapter is _**very**_ Santana/Dave heavy. About 85 percent of the next chapter is Santana and Dave or Santana, Dave and Sue. There's a bit of Quinn and Britt texting and some friction developing between Dave and Azimio. It'll be an important chapter in establishing a tentative friendship/fake relationship with San and Karofsky, putting a major strain on Dave and Azimio's friendship, and introducing the first slivers of jealousy from Brittany.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 09 December 2011


	5. The Pezsky Portmanteau

**A/N**: Text messages are written in bold.

**Spoilers**: General mentions of _Original Song_ possible, minor plot points from _Born This Way_ introduced.

**Warnings**: Language, David Karofsky, beards being gross to look straight

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Pezsky Portmanteau **

**School – Tuesday, 7:32 am**

Santana spots her target and she closes her eyes, taking a moment to choke back the bile rising in the back of her throat and steel herself for the conversation ahead of her. She runs her hands down the front of her pleated Cheerio skirt to smooth it out before taking a deep breath and releasing it. It only takes a few confident steps before she is in front of the football/hockey player, him easily towering over her.

Azimio hits Karofsky's arm with the back of his hand to get his attention before pointing to the small Latina standing before him with her arms folded across her chest, her expression both impatient and agitated. The jock momentarily falters when he notices that the girl is clearly waiting for him and he feels a sense of dread washing over him.

The Cheerio arches an expectant eyebrow at the football player, her eyes briefly darting off to her left then returning to the other boy's before turning on her heel and strutting off with a flourish, her skirt swaying in time with her steps as she goes.

"Man, what was _**that**_ about?" Azimio laughs and shakes his head at the other girl's behavior. "Dude, women, right?" He chuckles, smacking his friend's arm with the back of his hand again.

Dave just smiles uneasily at his teammate's words. "I gotta go. See you later Z," he says before following after Santana, the foreboding feeling only getting worse as he turns down the same corridor he saw her go down. He glances into several empty classrooms before seeing the dark-haired Head Cheerio sitting on one of the tables in the Home Ec room, swinging her legs idly as she waits.

Santana glances up when she hears the door click closed and she spots David Karofsky standing awkwardly just inside the doorway, looking apprehensively around him. "Stop acting like this room is somehow an affront to your masculinity," she scoffs condescendingly.

"Shut up," Dave snaps defensively, wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to follow the other girl in the first place. His shoulders sag as he self-consciously jams his hands into the pockets of his dry-cleaned, slushy-free letterman jacket and looks anywhere but at the brunette.

With a stab of guilt, Santana immediately regrets her words knowing that he's probably going through the same thing she is…or at least something similar enough that she should know better than to take such cheap shots at him. "Look," she sighs, sliding off the table and to her feet, "I'm sorry," she mumbles out the apology. "This just isn't exactly easy for me," she admits this last part mostly to herself.

At this, the football player can't help but shoot her a stunned look; everyone knows that Santana Lopez _**doesn't**_ apologize. His expression soon turns suspicious then somewhat sympathetic. "No offense or anything Lopez, but I'm not interested," he informs her regretfully.

"Oh?" Santana arches a challenging eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips as she crosses her arms.

"Yeah. You're not exactly my type. It's nothing against you or anything because, honestly, if you _**were**_ my type, I wouldn't even really have a problem with you being such a bitch," he explains, sounding sincere and genuinely sorry despite his borderline-insensitive wording.

Not wanting to draw this out any longer than necessary, Santana decides to just bite the bullet and get this over with. "I _**know**_ I'm not your type. Actually, the only reason I'm even _**talking**_ to you right now is _**because**_ I know I'm not your type," she states in a prompting tone, hoping that he understands what she's trying to imply.

"What?" He asks, not quite grasping her meaning.

Santana sighs, knowing she has to spell it out for the football player. "I. Know. You're. Gay," she informs him carefully, as if he were a slower version of Forrest Gump.

"No I'm not," Karofsky blanches, answering far too quickly for it to be at all believable.

"Yeah, you're pasty ass turning two shades whiter is _**far**_ from convincing," the Latina rolls her eyes.

Just by looking at the Cheerio, he can already tell that he won't be able to change her mind. "How do you even know? Did Kurt tell you?" He asks after several long moments, his tone making him sound defeated and ashamed.

"Oh please, I have _**eyes**_…and awesome gaydar," Santana informs him obviously. "I mean really, David, I saw you checkin' out Sam's ass just _**yesterday**_ before first period," she snaps, letting him know how conspicuous he is, choosing not to acknowledge the mention of Kurt in favor of filing that little bit of information away for the time being.

"I was just trying to see what brand his jeans were," the other boy is quick to defend himself.

"Yeah, you're not really helping your case with that one," she scoffs, authoritatively folding her arms across her chest again.

"You know what, fine! You win. Is _**that**_ what you want to hear? Is that why you've been such a _**bitch**_ to me lately? Because you know?" He rants, his breathing becoming shallow as he fights the panic rising up.

Santana averts her eyes, her posture relaxing. Seeing the usually arrogant jock close to breaking down is enough to make her feel almost bad for him. She makes the decision to throw out everything she planned to say beforehand because, in addition to being wholly unnecessary, she knows that it isn't the best way to handle someone like him.

"David, I didn't get you back here to attack you or try to hurt you, okay?" Santana offers softly as she moves closer, placing a tentative hand on his tense arm, his hands jammed back into his jacket pockets.

"What do you want then?" He attempts to growl, but it sounds more like he's struggling to hold back tears.

She pulls away from him, as if realizing for the first time that (much to her horror) she was actually trying to offer another person comfort of some kind, and clasps her hands together behind her back, taking on a somewhat innocent pose. "Have you ever heard the term 'beard'?"

Dave's face screws up in confusion. "Like facial hair? What's that-"

"Jesus, are you _**kidding**_ me!" The Latina snaps incredulously. "Por favor dígame que usted está bromeando ahora," she rants under her breath to herself.

"What?" He questions, tilting his head to the side as if that would help him comprehend what the other girl just said.

Santana closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her Cheerio skirt in an effort to recompose herself. "Please tell me you are joking right now," she calmly speaks, translating her previous outburst.

"So a beard _**isn't**_ facial hair?" He sheepishly responds, bracing himself for another outburst.

"It _**is**_...just not in this context," she explains carefully. "In this case, a beard is someone of the opposite sex that a gay person dates to hide the fact that they're gay," she tells him, watching his expression carefully.

Karofsky lets the information sink in for a moment. "So you're saying that you're willing to be my beard," he summarizes, though it sounds more like a question, and the other girl simply nods. "Why?" He wonders, genuinely perplexed as to why she'd do something that would help him.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Santana debates what her next words will be. "Because you'd be my beard too," she finally says, carefully reading his reaction.

Santana can see the _**exact**_ moment that realization strikes the football player. His eyes widen and his lips part slightly in understanding. He stares at her for several moments, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that, in her own way, one of the most popular and notoriously promiscuous girls – as well as the bitchiest – just outed herself to him.

"You mean _**you're**_…" he trails off, not wanting to say the actual words aloud.

"Yeah," Santana grudgingly admits before taking note of the dumbstruck expression on the jock's face. "Look, it's just…you know…whatever," she attempts to wave it off nonchalantly…with questionable results.

"I guess we have more in common than being two of the biggest assholes in this school after all, huh?" Dave hazards a tentative smile.

"I guess so," Santana finds herself agreeing and moments later, they find themselves doing something neither of them has done in a while: laughing. Genuinely. Both simply relieved to have another person know their biggest secret and not judge them for it.

After several moments, their laughter subsides and Karofsky finally allows his posture to relax. "So, what now?" He asks her with a slightly less awkward version of his usual smile.

Looking over at the other boy, realization hits her. "Dios mio," Santana sighs, slightly more amused than frustrated at this point. "You've never had a girlfriend have you?" She states more than asks.

With his face turning crimson, Dave clears his throat self-consciously. "I've _**totally**_ had one before," he replies defensively. Santana arches a questioning eyebrow as if to challenge him to tell her everything. "A Cheerio, Michelle Greenwood. Last year. We were together for about nine days. Got to second base with her…barely," he elaborates.

Santana appreciates him being succinct and to the point in answering her unasked questions. "Nine days hardly counts, but I'll accept it this one time. I'm guessing the lack of sex is your fault because Michelle is a bigger whore than I am," she analyzes his response. "She just isn't as open about it and she doesn't have the first clue how to use sex as a social skill unlike yours truly," she explains when she sees him about to say something about her 'whore' comment. "So…you're a virgin?" She ventures and he simply nods, too embarrassed to say anything. "Does anyone else know?"

"Just Azimio…but it's not like he questions me about it or gives me shit, you know?" David feels the need to point out upon seeing the expression on the other girl's face at the mention of his friend. "He's not really a bad guy or anything. He has a lot going on at home and-"

Santana holds up a hand to keep him from continuing. "Look, I get it. You don't have to explain anything to me," she reassures him. The mention of the other jock, however, reminds her of the whole reason for this. "There's something else though, kind of the whole purpose of me seeking you out in the first place," she bites her lip, trying to decide the best way to go about this.

"You mean the whole gay thing wasn't…" Karofsky trails off, confused again but also almost hurt that there's another ulterior motive.

"The gay thing was actually a bonus and it gave me incentive to agree in the first place. Mind you, this is coming from Sue Sylvester, so saying 'no' really isn't even an option at this point," Santana eases into telling him and immediately backtracks when she sees the stricken look on his face at the mention of the cheer coach. "No, this isn't bad or anything and you're not, like, in trouble with her. This could actually end up being a really _**good**_ thing," she is quick to assure the other boy.

"Well, what is it?" Dave asks, wanting her to just tell him already.

"Figgins has an anti-bullying bug up his ass after finding out our school is ranked as one of the worst schools for bullying in the country. So, after watching some special on T.V., he surveyed a bunch of students and found out that you and I are pretty much the school's two biggest bullies, Azimio a semi-distant third. The Cheerios, as a group, are worse than any of the other athletic cliques and-"

"What are you getting at?" The jock interrupts, for the first time ever. He almost looks sick waiting for her to bite his head off…or do unspeakable things to his manhood.

Santana refrains from getting upset, tired of regurgitating Sue's spiel herself, so she just sighs. "Sue decided that to keep Figgins in the dark and stay on his good side, she'll humor him on his latest crusade by recruiting the two biggest bullies in the school to head an anti-bullying club."

"I don't believe it. There's got to be more of a reason than that," the other boy shakes his head. From the reasons the Head Cheerio gave him, it sounds like it's simply Sue Sylvester making a poor excuse to do something good and that just isn't in her nature.

"Who knows? I learned not to question Sue's motives a long time ago," Santana shrugs in hopes that he'll drop it. She found no reason to tell him _**all**_ of her motives behind this, least of all the monetary ones.

"Oh god! You didn't tell her I'm _**gay**_, did you?" He snaps after a moment, the familiar panic beginning to rise once again.

"Please, your 'secret' is safe," she assures him with a roll of her eyes, not lying outright despite the implication that she didn't tell her coach about him. "Oh, and for the record, she doesn't exactly know about me, so I'd appreciate you not saying anything," she is sure to include.

"Of course," he earnestly promises her, feeling that it's the least he can do considering how much she's helping him out, whether she realizes it or not.

"Good. Now, I need you to wait for me outside the Cheerios' locker room after third so we can meet with her."

"Okay," he answers, trepidation creeping into his voice at the thought of actually sharing a space with the two most intimidating people that he knows.

"You'll be fine," Santana rolls her eyes, not expecting him to be such a big baby once he 'cocky jock' dropped the act.

Noticing the look on her face, Karofsky can't help but turn his lips up slightly in amusement either. He opens his mouth, not quite sure what it is he wants to say but knowing that he should say something. However, he never gets the chance due to the ten minute warning bell going off.

"We should get going. Should I, like, walk you to class or…" David trails off when she tugs on the sleeve of his jacket and he looks at her curiously.

"We're supposed to be a couple now and we really should look it," the Latina smirks.

"Right. So then I guess I'm walking you to-"

Karofsky's sentence is cut off by the smaller girl pulling him down by his jacket collar and rising up on her tip-toes so that she can meet him halfway in an awkward and tense closed-mouth kiss.

When they pull apart and Dave opens his eyes, he finds Santana staring back at him, her own eyes narrowed in annoyance. "We're really going to need to work on that if we want people to buy this. Michelle isn't _**that**_ bad a kisser, so next time I expect you to be less uncomfortable and stiff," she lectures him sternly as she makes her way to the door.

"Trust me, the last thing you'll ever have to worry about is me being stiff," David mumbles as she walks past him. Santana turns to the other boy, her hand poised on the door handle, before laughing at the unexpectedly funny comment from the usually stoic football player. He finds himself chuckling along with her, mostly glad that they seem to have cleared up the mutual animosity that's existed between them since, well, grade school. "Wait. You and Michelle?" He asks suddenly.

"We got drunk and made out at a Cheerios-only party freshman year," Santana shrugs nonchalantly.

"Huh," David finds himself responding, almost jealous that the other girl at least has experience being with other girls whereas his only experience with another boy is kissing an unwilling Kurt all those months ago. His thoughts are cut off once again by a pair of lips, this time on his neck. Much to his embarrassment, he releases a moan at the sensation while trying his damnedest not to squirm away from the uncomfortable sensation of a girl's fingers curled at the back of his neck.

Santana gently wipes the smudged lipstick from David's neck and surveys her work with pride. "Perfect," she nods her head in satisfaction. "Not everything has to happen now, you know. We're only in high school and you'll have plenty of opportunities to be with other guys, or even just _**one**_ guy if you're _**really**_ lucky. Just because I've been with other girls doesn't mean that I'm any better at this 'being gay' thing than you are. Besides, you're lucky because you didn't waste your time with a bunch of girls just to try to convince yourself that you're straight," she offers sympathetically upon noticing the longing expression on his face, not realizing her own loneliness and regretful despondency creeping into her tone and reflecting in her eyes.

For the first time, Dave finds himself seeing a completely different side to Santana Lopez. He never once believed that the other girl could ever actually experience normal human emotions until now. In seeing this new side of her, he can't help but feel bad for the Latina and how much it must hurt her to know that others see her only as some bitchy slut when she knows that she never really even had an interest in any of those guys to begin with.

"Santana," he offers softly, not quite knowing what to say but knowing that it needs to be said nonetheless. However, just as soon as that unexpected vulnerability appeared, it's gone again.

"Look, _**Davey**_…" Santana smirks at the mocking nickname and his petulant expression, "you can tell Auntie Tana all about whatever's bothering you _**after**_ school, but right now you need to escort me to my locker and then to class," she states with an exaggerated air of importance while also making sure he knows that he can talk to her.

David shakes his head, appreciating her trying to lift the mood, but still not willing to let certain things slide. "Don't call me 'Davey'," he all but demands.

"Aw, why not?" The Cheerio practically pouts.

"I haven't let anyone call me that since I was, like, five. It just sounds gay," the football player responds, his distaste for the nickname apparent.

"I know, that's why it's appropriate," Santana manages to get out before laughing.

"Shut up," he grumbles, folding his arms across his chest.

"It's just a cute little pet name, _**all**_ couples have them. Don't get your panties in a twist, _**Sweetie**_," she retorts with amusement before putting on her best bitch face, slightly toned down with only a _**mildly**_ sinister smirk, and opening the classroom door.

"If you call me 'Davey', I'm going to call you 'Santa'," Karofsky can't help himself, uncrossing his arms as he follows his 'girlfriend' out, holding back his surprise when he feels her reach for his hand and lace their fingers together.

"Don't you _**dare**_," Santana growls, her darkened expression enough to send a frightened and confused Freshman turning to flee but running face first into an open locker instead. Karofsky watches, equally amused and impressed.

"But it's _**only**_ a pet name, _**all**_ couples have them. Don't get your flannel in a knot, _**Sweetie**_," David turns the Cheerio's words against her, trying not to laugh.

"_**Brittany**_ isn't even allowed to call me 'Santa'," she points out to support her case as to why he can't call her that while socking him in the arm.

"You're so _**butch**_," David jokes, encouraged by the smile twitching at the corners of the other girl's lips. A moment later and he realizes what the Latina said. "_**Brittany**_, huh?" He grins knowingly, having some idea what the other girl is implying about the nature of their relationship.

"Don't," Santana warns, tugging his arm to signal him to stop as they reach her locker.

"No, I'm curious now. Is she like your secret girlfriend or something?" He continues to prod, his smile intact, as he casually leans against the locker next to the Latina's.

"No, she isn't. We aren't _**anything**_ anymore," Santana grinds out, slamming her locker shut unnecessarily hard once finished, not noticing the jock wincing as she does so.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up such a sore topic," he apologizes sincerely.

Santana glances over at him and sighs. She can tell that he really does feel bad. "I know," she acknowledges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of his face almost affectionately. "But how about next time you just drop it when I tell you to, hmm?" She questions rhetorically, roughly patting his face in an almost-slap before taking his hand again and shoving her books against his chest so he can carry them for her with his free arm.

David wisely chooses not to pursue the topic any further…for the time being at least. "So, am I meeting you after class to escort you to second period?" He asks, not entirely sure what's expected of him.

"I'll meet you at your locker since it's right between both of our second classes," Santana determines after a moment. She turns to look up at him just before they get to one of the more populated areas of the school. "And you _**seriously**_ need to make this look believable even though we aren't at _**all**_ physically attracted to each other," she emphasizes.

"What are you trying to say?" He asks his brows furrowed in confusion.

"That you need to put some _**effort**_ into pretending to find me attractive. As unappealing as it is to both of us, we will need to be at least _**moderately**_ affectionate and you need to work on acting like you're checkin' out my rack when we talk and/or staring at my ass any time I walk away," Santana instructs him.

"Okay," Dave cringes after a moment before being tugged to a stop. He shoots the other girl a questioning look.

"History. This is me," she explains as they stand outside of her classroom.

"AP Euro?" He asks, brows furrowed slightly.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not _**nearly**_ the idiot everyone here would like to think I am," she rolls her eyes.

"I never thought you were dumb or anything," he defends himself, wanting to make that point clear upon seeing the exasperated look on her face.

Santana scrutinizes him for a moment, gauging his sincerity, before her expression softens, much to the other boy's relief. "So, I'm going to need you to pretend to whisper something to me in my ear," she says loud enough for only him to hear, certain that she can feel several pairs of eyes on her from passing students in the hallway as well as in the classroom behind her. Her posture screams 'flirtatious', one leg straight while the other is bent so the tip of her shoe is on the ground and she is better able to lean into him, the fingers of the hand not holding one of his twirling a lock of hair from her ponytail.

Dipping his head down, Karofsky brings his mouth to her ear. "Brittany can't take her eyes off us," he tells her quietly.

Santana giggles coyly, resisting every urge to turn and look at the blonde for herself. Instead, she brings the hand that had been playing with her hair up to his shoulder and he leans down as she rises up on the tips of her toes so they can share a brief, chaste kiss. She quirks an approving eyebrow at him, the corners of her lips subtly curved up, before disentangling herself from him to go into the room.

"I'll see you after class," the Latina promises, keeping her tone light as he politely gives her back her books. Dave simply nods dumbly, acting the part of the smitten boy-toy. He 'reluctantly' releases her hand as she turns to the open doorway, his forces himself to glue his eyes to the general vicinity of her ass. Without warning, she turns back towards him, pleased that he listened to her when she told him to play it up. "Go to class," she laughs, playfully pushing his shoulder in the direction of his own classroom with a look of delight etched across her features.

"Fine, I'm going," Karofsky chuckles, raising his hands in a jokingly placating manner as he backs away from the door. She shoots him another smile, a genuine one, before finally going into the classroom and instinctively knowing that he's at least pretending to watch the swishing of her red Cheerio skirt.

Taking her seat in the back of the room, as far from Brittany as possible, Santana glances back to the doorway where Dave shoots her a brief smile before turning and walking off. She can feel everyone's eyes on her, but she appears totally oblivious as she stares dreamily down at her notebook. Her biggest incentive for putting on such a show outside _**this class**_ in particular is because it's not only the first class of the day, but it's also the first of her two classes that she shares with Jewfro. In doing that, she just ensured that the entire school will be well-informed of her and David's relationship status no later than third period. The fact that Brittany also bore witness to everything is just an added bonus in her book. It takes all of her willpower not to seek out the blonde to gauge her reaction.

* * *

**Moments Earlier**

Brittany bites her lip nervously as she watches the clock. Class is going to start any minute and she still has seen neither hide nor hair of the Latina. No one has. As a result, the hallways have been uncommonly peaceful this morning without so much as a snide comment, slushy or someone being stuffed into a trashcan. Just as she's about to give into the idea that Santana might be out sick for the day, she happens to glance one more time to the open door. The sight that greets her is straight out of her nightmares.

There stands Santana with fingers loosely entwined with David Karofsky's, someone the Latina has loathed since grade school. Now she's standing intimately close with the other boy, leaning into him and heavily flirting with her body language alone. The blonde is having difficulty keeping down the bile threatening to rise up at the sight. When he leans down to whisper in the Cheerio's ear, Brittany's hands grip tightly on the edge of her desk lest she give in to temptation and march over to them with the sole intention of kicking his face in.

Santana's uncharacteristic giggling snaps the former-Cheerio out of her homicidal haze. Unfortunately, Brittany witnesses their short kiss and she tries to blink away the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and the cold stab of jealousy piercing her chest. All of their cutesy little actions leading up to Karofsky's departure make her sink a little more into herself, waiting for her nightmare to be over.

The worst part is when the bullying jock is gone and Santana still seems dreamy and oblivious while the rest of the class either stares at her in shock or whisper among themselves. Despite Brittany's admittedly feeble attempts to get the other girl's attention, the brunette is off in her own world leaving her to feel nothing but hurt, confused and jealous. Of _**David Karofsky**_, of all people!

Her inner turmoil is interrupted by the hum of her phone vibrating in her backpack. Glancing around to make sure no one's paying attention, Brittany slips her phone into her lap and sees that Quinn just sent her a text.

**I must not have slept well because I could've sworn that I saw Santana and Karofsky holding hands and walking together on my way to class.**

Brittany sighs, the text proof enough that she wasn't hallucinating that scene in the doorway. She bites her bottom lip in contemplation as she tries to think of how to reply.

**They were flirting and being gross outside class a second ago. Did I miss something?**

Hopefully the other blonde has more insight than she does because the whole situation is doing nothing but causing her head to spin. Her phone buzzes again just as the final bell rings.

**I dunno WTF S is doing either…Did JBI look like he knew anything?**

At this, Brittany looks over at Jacob Ben Israel, trying to see if he noticed anything. She notices the boy furiously typing away on his phone, casting furtive glances at the Latina every few moments.

**No, but I'm sure he's updating his blog as we speak. I'm sure the whole story will be up by lunch.**

With a heavy sigh, Brittany sets her gaze on her former friend, ignoring the teacher droning on at the front of the classroom.

**You ok?**

Quinn texts back after several moments. Briefly, Brittany considers not replying because she's honestly not sure how she feels. Soon, however, she begins to type back her response.

**IDK. It hurts but she was single and I'm with Artie so I don't really have a right to be mad or jealous. It's not like she and I are even friends anymore or anything.**

The taller girl shrugs despite the other girl not actually being able to see her do so.

**I'm sorry B. Karofsky's a jerk.**

Brittany can't help but smile, agreeing wholeheartedly with the statement. Knowing that her texting is starting to draw her teacher's attention, she decides to end this conversation short.

**I know lol. Talk after class? Mr. C giving me the evil eye.**

The other girl's reply comes barely a moment later.

**K.**

Satisfied with the response, Brittany returns her attention back to staring at the dark-haired Cheerio.

* * *

Once outside the line of sight of anyone in Santana's classroom, Karofsky takes off into a jog so he can make it to the other side of the school in time for his own class. He barely walks through the door to English and slides into his usual seat next to Azimio before the final bell rings. As the teacher begins to go on about their next assignment, David looks over at his friend, his lips quirking into an awkward smirk.

"Hey," he tries to greet the darker boy nonchalantly.

"Don't 'hey' me. What did Satan want?" Azimio cuts right to the chase.

"To talk…and apologize," David elaborates when he sees the unimpressed look on his friend's face.

"For what? Being a bitch?" The other football player asks sarcastically.

"Pretty much," he shrugs in return.

"Boys, attention up here!" Mr. Harper barks, immediately gaining their attention.

With David's head turned to the front, Azimio hazards a glance at his teammate, his eyes widening when he notices something. "Dude!" He whisper-shouts as he leans over and hits him in the shoulder with the back of his hand. "Did Satan give you a _**hickey**_?" He questions him with equal parts disbelief and amusement.

Karofsky's hand immediately shoots up to the spot on his neck where the other girl had been sucking earlier, his face turning an almost unnatural shade of red now that he realizes what she was doing. "Santana's kinda my girlfriend now," he mumbles in response, the words feeling strange on his tongue.

"No shit?" Azimio asks, smirking incredulously.

"Yeah," Dave nods seriously, furrowing his brow at his friend's reaction. "What?" He can't help but wonder why the other boy finds it so funny.

"That bitch has taken the virginity of most of the guys I know. You picked the perfect chick to lose it to," the dark-skinned jock grins, pleased that his best friend has finally decided to become a _**real**_ man now.

"_**What**_?" Dave repeats his previous question, this time sounding more defensive, not quite certain who it is he's speaking up for, him or Santana.

"Man, trust me: she will _**rock**_ your world," Azimio continues suggestively, oblivious to the other boy's tone. "But seriously, her slutty ass would still put out if even if you didn't bother with all this 'girlfriend' crap," he says sympathetically, knowing that it was stupid for Dave to think that he had to make it 'official' to get with the Cheerio captain.

"Shut up Z. It isn't like that," the other jock all but growls. Knowing what he knows now, he can't stand to hear his best friend talking like that about the other girl. "We're taking things slow. I _**like**_ her, okay?" He emphasizes, surprising himself with the fact that the last part isn't even a lie…he does like the Latina, just in a more platonic way than implied.

"Whatever," Azimio scoffs, not believing for a second that anyone can ever actually _**enjoy**_ spending time with the bitchy brunette. "All I'm sayin' is that you'd be better off just fucking her and being done with it just like everyone else," he shrugs, ignorant of his friend seething beside him.

"Karofsky! Adams! One more time and it's detention," Mr. Harper cuts off David's reply.

Both teens sink slightly in their seat, they don't even have to look at each other to know that their conversation is over for the time being. Though he doesn't want to believe it, Dave can feel deep down that his decade-long friendship with Azimio has just fractured significantly and, at this point, he isn't sure if he even wants to repair it…or if it would even be possible to fix if he wanted to.

* * *

**Lunch – Cheerio Locker Room **

Santana tightens her ponytail and allows her hands to smooth over her Cheerio vest and skirt, making sure she looks presentable before knocking on Coach Sylvester's door. She told Dave that she was checking to make sure the locker room was empty and that the coach was in the cheer office and not her other faculty office before letting him in. Gay or not, a male football player in the Cheerio locker room wouldn't go over well with most of the other girls.

"Enter," Sue barks from the other side of the door. Upon seeing her squad captain, she takes her attention away from her computer screen. "Where's your other half?" She challenges.

"Outside the locker room. I wanted to just let you know that I didn't tell him that I told you he was gay," Santana states, explaining the other woman's silent questioning of why she was in there without him. "I'm just requesting that you don't mention anything about that because I don't want to give him a reason not to trust me," she adds when it becomes apparent that the other woman isn't following.

"Noted," Sue nods once, her face giving nothing away. "Now bring in the pawn!" She declares dramatically.

The Latina wordlessly exits the office and opens the door, looking around for her 'boyfriend'. "David!" She calls, not wanting to close the door and have to bother with re-entering the code to get back in…it's just too much of a hassle.

"Sorry," the other boy sheepishly replies from just out of her line of sight around the corner by the entrance to the gym.

"Come on," Santana jerks her head towards the inside of the locker room, gesturing for him to follow her in.

After a moment of hesitation at the threshold, Karofsky steps in, not sure what to expect considering how relatively few people are even allowed in. He trails after the much smaller girl, one step away from walking on her heels as he takes in his surroundings. "It's so clean and spacious," he states, mostly to himself.

"What were you expecting?" Santana rolls her eyes, trying not to let on how amused she is.

"I didn't think it would be so big considering there are only, like, fourteen of you," David defends himself with a shrug, craning his neck to look at the shower room. "Private shower stalls?" He arches an eyebrow, both impressed and disbelieving.

"Only the best for Sue's internationally-ranked Cheerios," Santana explains it away before she grows thoughtful for a moment. "Then again, the private shower stalls can be a total buzz kill…if you know what I mean," she arches her eyebrows, her lips curving up into a suggestive smirk.

Karofsky chuckles at the other girl's implication as they approach the office. His amusement fades quickly and he turns to the Head Cheerio for reassurance. Santana rolls her eyes in amusement at how big of a baby he's being which, oddly enough, sets the other boy at ease. Being the gentleman that he is, David holds the door open for his 'girlfriend' before following her in, clicking the door shut behind him.

Sue Sylvester scrutinizes the pair before her, her face set in its usual scowl. "Well Pezsky, I must say I'd find the physical differences between the two of you hilarious had I not had a Catholic priest exorcise me of my sense of humor back in '83 when the Pope had me visit him Vatican City," she informs them, referring to the glaring height difference.

David gapes at the other woman, not sure what to think, glancing back at the younger girl for some guidance on how to react. For her part, Santana doesn't appear to be the least bit fazed, having grown accustomed to the other woman's bizarre outbursts and skewed historical references over the years. Neither bother to question her in regards to her referring to them as 'Pezsky' because it wouldn't even be worth it to challenge her decided portmanteau for them as a couple.

Catching her coach's subtle nod, Santana takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of the other woman's desk. After a moment she realizes that the football player is still standing, she remedies this by reaching over and firmly tugging on his arm. "Sit," she orders. He does so.

"Impressive, Lopez," Sue states, an eyebrow arched at their interaction before turning her attention to the now seated boy. "Hey, Tiny, why do you look like someone has your manparts in a vice grip?" She asks harshly upon noticing his discomfort.

"Um…" he trails off, caught by surprise at her comment.

"You think _**this**_ is hard? I'm passing a kidney stone. As. We. Speak. _**That's**_ hard," Sue snaps.

"You've already used that one," Santana finds herself saying in a bored tone before noticing the glare being directed at her courtesy of the other woman. "What? You _**did**_. It was when you were obsessed with Madonna and going through your 'stilts' stage," she shrugs, knowing she isn't wrong.

"I don't appreciate your insubordination!" Coach Sylvester sputters after a moment. Santana rolls her eyes and folds her arms across her chest, looking off to the side of the room, but she remains otherwise silent.

"Was there a reason why you needed to see me?" Karofsky quietly pipes up after a moment of terse silence.

Sue turns her attention back to him, just remembering that he was even in the room. "Right. So, I'm assuming my little Piñata here told you about The Bully Whips?" She questions, though it doesn't sound much like a question at all.

"Is _**that**_ what you're naming the club?" The Latina spits, the distain dripping from her words as she returns her gaze to the coach, completely ignoring the offensive nickname.

"Do you have a problem with that Lopez?" Sue challenges. She's always been willing to give the girl a little wiggle room when it comes to how much she'll tolerate from her, but there is still such a thing as pushing too far.

"No, fine. Whatever," Santana deflates, sensing the severity in the other woman's demeanor.

"Uh, yeah. She told me," David answers, swallowing hard and willing himself to disappear into his seat.

"Good," the track-suited woman nods in approval.

"What do you need us to do?" The Latina hesitantly asks, almost afraid to speak for fear of being yelled at again.

Sue stares hard at her head Cheerio, satisfied when the teen refrains from breaking eye contact or fidgeting. "Nothing…yet. It'll be more believable if people start to see you as being a legitimate couple first. Just start cutting back on the blatant bullying. No more physical abuse. Lurch, that means no more shoving people in trash cans for you. Emotional abuse is tolerable within reason. General name-calling is acceptable as long as it doesn't involve discrimination," she pauses to glance down at her notes.

"What does that mean?" David asks, not certain what counts as 'discrimination' to Sue.

"Nothing racist and you can't call anyone a 'fag'," Santana answers for her coach in a neutral tone, both females carefully watching as he flinches slightly at the homophobic slur that he's been known to toss around from time to time.

Clearing her throat to get their attention, Coach Sylvester checks her notes and continues. "Santana, try to keep the slushying to once a week…and tone down the blatant emotional abuse. I don't care if you manipulate or provoke others to do your dirty work for you, I wouldn't want to get in the way of you doing what you do best after all. However, no more harassment or personal attacks-"

"But-" Santana tries to cut in, only to be interrupted by her coach hold up her hand to silence her.

"Yes, we _**all**_ know how horrible Rachel Berry's sweaters are, but you are _**not**_ to verbally abuse her about them. We can _**see**_ them so there is no reason to bring any more undue attention to those atrocities. Are we clear?" She asks rhetorically, but Santana nods anyways. "Intimidation is fine, but not outright torment. I know this is going to be hard for all of us, but it's a necessary evil," she says in a mournful tone as though they were all making a grave personal sacrifice.

Santana hides her amusement at the other woman referring to cutting back on their bullying behaviors as 'evil'. "So, how long are we going to be cutting back like this before you make us start that club?" She asks.

"Two or three weeks should be long enough for us to cut it back to almost nothing. It's not like we're quitting altogether…just the obvious acts of abuse. Underhanded and untraceable actions are fine as long as no one can prove anything," Coach Sylvester shrugs. "Now, since I'm getting bored with you, I think we're done."

Santana and Dave share a look before rising in their seats and making their way to the door. "Oh, and one more thing," Sue stops them, causing them to turn back to her with trepidation. "Congratulations on getting Jewfro to buy the act. His webpage was updated just before lunch with the story."

"Thanks, Coach," Santana smirks, nudging the other boy who breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of my office!" Sue barks after a moment. They don't waste any more time before scrambling to get out of there. Neither of them notice that they have a witness watching them exit the locker room back into the hall with confused hazel eyes.

* * *

The next chapter has a good deal of Santana/David stuff as well as some Brittany/Quinn friendship moments as well. The Dave/Santana friendship is important to the story but the attention will be shifting back to the Santana/Brittany stuff soon enough, this is all just building up to it.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 15 December 2011


	6. McKinley's New 'It' Couple

**Spoilers**: Brief reference to _Original Song_. A short reference to season 3's _Mash-Off_, but it has nothing to do with the storyline.

**Warnings**: Language (as per usual), jealous Brittany, references to underage drinking and hints at an eating disorder

* * *

**Chapter Six: McKinley's New 'It' Couple**

**Thursday **

"I'm assuming you heard about Ethan's party tomorrow night," Santana begins as she approaches her boyfriend by his locker after third period.

David jumps slightly, startled by her sudden appearance. He briefly flicks his attention to her before going back to switching his books in his locker. "Yeah, we _**are**_ teammates after all," he answers casually after a moment.

"Good, then you know that we're going together," she informs him, not even bothering with the pretense of asking.

"I kind of figured we would be," the jock rolls his eyes with a hint of a smirk.

"We need to make the odd obligatory public appearance to make sure this looks real," the other girl drops her voice so only he can hear, her eyes darting around to make sure no one is paying them enough attention to eavesdrop. Luckily, most people seem to be giving the couple a wide berth and can't even bring themselves to lift their eyes and risk making eye contact with the Latina.

"I know," David sighs in resignation, not liking that she's standing on the side that won't allow for him to hide behind his locker door.

"Is there a problem?" She arches an eyebrow as if challenging him to argue or chicken out.

"I only ever go to these when Z or the guys make me. I hate partying and I always feel so awkward. Social stuff like that makes me uncomfortable. I know you never miss a party, but I'm not like you, Santana," he confesses, not unkindly mentioning her nonchalance about going out.

"You really need to stop assuming things about me," the brunette girl hisses. "I go to these things because I'm popular and it's expected, _**not**_ because I enjoy myself. These things are just an opportunity for me to maintain my status and force me to get my drink on with a bunch of other people instead of alone at my house. The only difference is the scenery," she informs him with annoyance, not fully realizing everything that left her mouth.

David is stunned for a moment as the other girl's words sink in. He's ashamed that, just like everyone else in this school, he just presumed that the Latina never missed a social event like that because she was a fun-loving party girl that liked letting loose whenever the opportunity arose. It never occurred to him that she only saw these things as an obligation, another way to cement her image as the popular cheerleader…the flamboyantly _**heterosexual**_ popular head cheerleader. Then the rest of her words sink in and his brows furrow even further, but this time with concern rather than guilt.

"You shouldn't be drinking alone Santana," he softly says, wondering how it's possible for so many people to be this clueless about the other girl's life.

"Which is why we go to parties, genius," Santana rolls her eyes obviously, her arms folded across her chest as she plasters a strained smile on her face in a failed attempt to look lighthearted.

The taller boy is painfully aware that this is neither the time nor the place to get into this conversation, so he settles on offering her a small but warm smile, hoping that she understands that she can talk to him about anything. "If you say so, Sweetheart," he playfully responds, not wanting to start an argument.

"Great, so, tell whatever lie you need to tell your parents and pick me up…" Santana trails off in her instructions when she sees the almost pained expression on his face. "What is it?" She questions suspiciously with her eyes narrowed into a glare.

After a moment of trying to figure out what to say, David settles on a watered-down version of the truth. "Azimio was over at my house on Tuesday night and told my parents that I had a girlfriend," he informs her carefully. His jaw tenses as he remembers the exact nature of his supposed best friend delivering the news to his parents. Their initial excitement over him finally getting a girlfriend had been dampened by Azimio also describing Santana as an evil, manipulative bitch and a 'whore'.

Santana takes the news that his parents know about him having a girlfriend with little more than a shrug before she notices his darkening expression. "What did he tell them?" She demands, making it clear that not answering isn't an option.

"Look, it doesn't matter what he said," the jock assures her, weakly smiling at her as he recalls _**literally**_ throwing his friend out of the house after his display. "But they want to meet you…tomorrow," he bites the bullet and tells her.

"I don't usually do the whole 'meet the parents' thing," Santana waves her hand dismissively, silently terrified of the prospect.

"But you dated Puck off and on for years so you must have-"

"I met his mom when she came home early from work to find us going at it on the couch in the living room," she interrupts him, bored by their conversation.

"What about all of those other guys you've…you know?" David wonders.

Heaving a sigh, Santana readjusts the backpack strap hanging off her left shoulder. "Dave, we all know that I'm not exactly the kind of girl that anyone would want to bring home to meet their family. I'm the kind of girl that you fuck and forget," she shrugs with feigned nonchalance and a self-deprecating smile.

David's gaze softens into a look of sympathy and understanding. In only a few short days, he's already lost track of how many times the other girl has surprised him by being the polar opposite of what he expected. He can't even reconcile his previous perception of the Latina as a cocky, man-eating, manipulative bitch with the sad, lonely, insecure girl standing before him.

"_**I**_ want you to meet my family," he assures her sincerely. "I'm not embarrassed or ashamed or anything…I just feel bad about lying to my family. If we weren't…" he trails off with a vague gesture, only continuing when she nods in comprehension, "then I would be proud to have you as my girlfriend," he finishes.

Santana averts her gaze to stare at the inside of his locker. The last thing she wants to do is admit that his words have had an effect on her and that she feels a swell of affection for the other boy rising up in her chest. "Don't start getting all mushy on me now Karofsky," she smirks after a moment, making sure her façade is back up before attempting to say anything.

"Whatever Lopez," Dave rolls his eyes as he reaches over and slides the strap of the girl's backpack off her shoulder and slinging it up on his own.

* * *

**Meanwhile**

As has been their custom for the last few weeks, Quinn turns the corner to meet Brittany at the taller girl's locker so they can walk to the cafeteria together for lunch. Her steps falter for a moment when she notices her friend's odd posture. Brittany has a white-knuckle grip on her locker door and her back is unusually tense and rigid, her face hidden from the other blonde's view by the open door of her locker.

Quinn approaches her friend and peers around the locker door to get a look at her face only to find the other girl's head is turned towards the other end of the hallway. Craning her neck to look around Brittany, she quickly hones in on what has the dancer's rapt attention. Her lips curl up into a look of disgust at the sight of a certain unpleasant football player and the back of a very familiar dark-haired Cheerio captain. The couple is on the opposite side of the hall and standing far too close for comfort as far as the two girls are concerned.

"Gross," Quinn grumbles after several moments of witnessing the couple's interactions.

Brittany tears her gaze away when she hears her friend, slightly embarrassed at having been caught staring, but relieved that it was Quinn and not her boyfriend. Her shoulders slump as she turns back to staring down the hall just in time to catch the caring look and sincere smile on Karofsky's face directed at her former friend. She agrees with Quinn's assessment about Santana dating the other boy, but she's willing to set aside her own personal distaste to make an honest and objective evaluation.

"I think they're good for each other," Brittany quietly confesses, just barely loud enough for the other girl to hear her.

Quinn's eyebrows shoot up so far and so fast that it's a wonder they didn't launch themselves into orbit. "Are you kidding me right now?" She asks her friend incredulously, her gaze darting back and forth between the girl in front of her and the Worst Couple Ever down the hall.

"Santana hasn't slushied or made anyone cry since Monday and Karofsky hasn't thrown anyone in the dumpster or Port-a-Potty since Tuesday. I've seen her smile more in the last two days than she's smiled since, like, October," she justifies her comment.

Opening and closing her mouth several times, Quinn tries to grasp at something – _**anything**_ – to contradict the other blonde. "It still feels…_**wrong**_," the former Cheerio captain explains after a moment of struggling to put her apprehension into words, earning a half-hearted shrug in response. "Come on Britt, seeing them together must make you feel _**something**_," she tries to push, her friend's resigned attitude towards the situation really starting to bother her at this point.

"I'm with Artie…and I love him," Brittany says, her tone unintentionally deadpan as though she's reciting the words she had to memorize for a report for her history class. "She and I aren't friends anymore and she can date who she wants. It's not like we were ever an actual couple or anything," she continues after a moment, trying not to think about how much it hurt when the Latina had walked right by her to get to the other boy's locker without so much as a glance or falter in her step.

Quinn gapes at her friend in disbelief. "You don't stop loving someone just because you're dating someone else or because you stop talking to each other. Just because you two were never 'official' doesn't make the way you feel about each other any less valid. You guys still acted like a couple and I'm not just talking about the sex…which I _**don't**_ need to hear about," she is quick to add.

Brittany releases a quiet sigh, watching how relaxed Santana's posture is around Karofsky…like she's comfortable with him. "Leave it alone, Quinn," she says plainly, but her eyes are pleading with her friend to just drop the topic.

The shorter blonde clenches her jaw, frustrated and angry at her friend for reasons that she doesn't even fully understand herself. She needs to know that Brittany still cares about Santana and that she isn't just going to stand around and let the Latina keep sabotaging herself.

"I saw them leaving the Cheerio locker room together after lunch on Tuesday," Quinn tells her friend in a seemingly offhanded tone. She resists the urge to smirk when the taller girl whips her head around with a wide-eyed stare, knowing that she hit the very nerve she was aiming for.

"What?" Brittany gasps. "Santana knows that boys are forbidden from entering the Cheerios locker room and Santana knows better than to go against Sue," she rambles, mostly to herself, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Has she ever snuck a boy in there before?" Quinn asks meaningfully, already knowing the answer.

"No. After practice and everyone else was gone, she and I would sometimes…" Brittany trails off, her eyes glazed over as she loses herself in a memory before shaking her head. The pain in her chest stings vaguely of betrayal at the thought of Santana desecrating one of 'their' spots.

Quinn's shoulders slump at the other girl's extended pause and she reaches out a hand to place on her friend's shoulder to bring her back to reality. "We could always go to Sue with this and get her kicked off the squad," she offers.

"No!" Brittany snaps her head to look at the shorter blonde, eyes wide. "I don't like it any more than you do, but we can't do that to her," she insists adamantly.

"You know what, Britt? You keep insisting that you don't like seeing them together but, to me, it doesn't really look like you give a damn," Quinn finally snaps, no longer able to keep dancing around the subject.

"I do," Brittany feebly counters, not liking what the other girl seems to be trying to imply.

"Then tell me, B," the shorter blonde begins, already knowing that she's going to regret her words the moment they leave her mouth but unable to keep from saying them anyways. "How does it feel to think of _**David Karofsky**_ in the Cheerios' locker room with Santana? His jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles and his hands _**all over**_ her, grunting in her ear while he _**fucks**_ her against your old locker," she growls out, growing furious herself at the images her words are planting in her own head.

"I _**hate**_ it, okay!" The taller girl erupts, fighting the tears in her eyes. "I hate the idea of them being together like…that. I hate that he gets to touch her with his gross, giant hands because they're too big to be anything but awkward and she doesn't need another guy in her life being too rough with her. Jeez Quinn, the very thought of him getting to be with her like that at all makes me _**sick**_ to my _**stomach**_, okay? Is that what you want to hear?" She grinds out, not even bothering to hide her tears, as she slams her locker door shut upon seeing Dave chivalrously shouldering his girlfriend's backpack along with his own and linking their hands before making their way to the cafeteria. "I bet his ginormous pinky is too big to fit with hers anyways," she grumbles under her breath.

Quinn is feeling the pangs of regret acutely in her chest when she sees her friend openly crying, a dead giveaway that she, perhaps, went too far when trying to force a reaction out of the other girl. "I'm sorry, B," she apologizes sincerely, grasping at whatever words she can to comfort her. "At least you know this isn't going to last," she offers after a moment.

"What are you talking about?" Is the uneasy response, Brittany having an idea what the girl is trying to get at.

At this, Quinn _**does**_ roll her eyes. "This is still Santana we're talking about and she isn't known for having a long attention span when it comes to being with a guy," she replies casually, wondering why it's so hard for her friend to understand that this thing with Karofsky is no more serious than any other relationship the brunette has ever had.

Brittany unconsciously clenches her jaw at the reminder of her former best friend's careless actions, unwilling to think about the reasons why Santana's promiscuous behavior has always hurt as much as it did. "This time she won't have me by her side to put her back together when he breaks her heart," she quietly informs the other girl.

Quinn instantly deflates at Brittany's last comment. She finds that she never really considered the effects Santana's reputation on either girl or how it seemed to hurt each of them but in very different ways. For some reason, the thought of the other blonde being the one to take care of the Latina isn't too hard to imagine.

"I'm sorry, B. I wasn't thinking," Quinn apologizes once again. She figures she should've known that Brittany isn't the kind of person that would find trash-talking an ex (friend? lover?) therapeutic. Especially if that person is Santana.

"It's fine, Q," the dancer smiles weakly. "Let's go to lunch now," she says more than asks before beginning to make her way to the cafeteria, torn between wanting to catch a glimpse of the Latina and not being able to spot her at all. Quinn follows silently behind, not sure what else to say.

* * *

**Cafeteria**

Santana can feel a sense of accomplishment at the newly integrated Cheerios table being filled to capacity. As of today, she has lifted Sue's seven year moratorium preventing anyone from sitting at their table that isn't a Cheerio. Even though the privilege has only been extended to their significant others – whom of which, according to the _Official Cheerios Handbook_, must be a member of one of the school's many sports teams (in other words…no nerds, thugs or losers) – Santana is certain that this is something that requires baby steps in order to be believable. Sure, it's hardly a stretch to bring other jocks to the Cheerio table because bringing the two most popular groups of students together during lunch is hardly controversial, any progress is still progress.

So, Santana is content to be seated in her rightful position at the table in the middle of the cafeteria, in the center of the side facing away from the door with her trusty football player boyfriend sitting loyally by her side. Paradoxically, they seem to both blend in and stand out from the rest of the table. At first glance they appear to be indistinguishable within the amalgamation of red and white uniforms. However, David is clearly taller and more solidly built than the other boys at the table whereas Santana's small frame isn't as unique to the squad of cheerleaders as is her almost black hair and tan complexion.

"Is that all you're eating?" David asks his girlfriend slightly louder than he intended, effectively pulling Santana from her musings and gaining the attention of the others at their table, who continue to pretend not to be listening.

The Latina follows his gaze to her bottle of Master Cleanse and the barely touched apple in front of her, which has since turned an unappetizing shade of brown from her neglect. She chooses not to respond verbally, settling for a careless shrug as pulls her buzzing phone out of her Varsity Squad Captain jacket to read Sue's latest text.

David shifts uncomfortably as he begins to sense that everyone else at the table has fixed their gaze on him. "So, are you, like, on a diet or something?" He hazards a guess after a moment.

Santana lazily drags her attention away from her phone to stare at the other boy. "I'm a _**flier**_," she almost sneers in with an obvious tone, as though it solved everything. She rolls her eyes and sighs upon seeing his expression turn even more questioning than before. "When you see tosses during a cheer routine, the girl getting tossed in the air is the flier. In competitions, the higher the flier goes, the more points it's worth. It's a fact that girls with fat asses don't go high, so only the smallest and lightest girls get to be fliers," she explains, trying to be patient with her boyfriend.

"Oh," David replies simply after taking a moment to let her words sink in. He ignores the fact that she never answered his question about her being on a diet in favor of making an attempt to continue the conversation. After years of watching the Cheerios and hearing about their apparent success, he now finds himself intrigued it all but hides it under the pretense of wanting to look like a good boyfriend. "So, how much do _**you**_ weigh?" He asks suddenly, thinking only of how his question relates to her explanation of how the lightest girls fly the highest.

The rest of the table goes silent and Santana pauses mid-text causing everyone to wait with bated breath for the inevitable explosion, anticipating the most epic breakup in the history of McKinley High, if not the entire state…and they have front row seats.

Santana turns towards him with an unreadable expression. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's impolite to ask a girl how much she weighs?" She asks him in a deathly calm tone, an eyebrow quirking up the slightest bit.

Darting his eyes around to the others at the table, too afraid to meet her gaze, David gulps audibly in nervousness. "Now that you mention it, I think she might've said something like that before," he says, hoping to appease the other girl.

"Good because I would _**hate**_ to have to tell her about this tomorrow night at dinner," Santana's demeanor instantly turns more lighthearted as she casts a coy grin at the other boy. She pretends not to notice the dumbfounded looks on everyone else's face, either at her letting go of the issue so easily or at the revelation that she will be having dinner with the Karofsky family…something that she is sure will have circulated around the rest of the school by the end of the day.

Dave simply chuckles and shakes his head at the other girl, knowing exactly what she's doing. Deciding to have fun and play along to further fuel the rumor mill, he leans over intimately close. "For the record, your ass may be a lot of things, but 'fat' isn't one of them," he whispers loudly enough that at least the people immediately next to them would hear.

Santana smirks at his attempt to sound sexy, but is secretly flattered at the compliment…despite its source. "So freaking charming," she chuckles in a tone that could almost be considered affectionate.

"What's in this crap anyways? I see you drinking it all the time," he points out seriously after getting as much enjoyment their inside joke about him having to stare at her ass as he can, picking up the opaque sports bottle sitting in front of Santana.

"Sue Sylvester's Master Cleanse," Santana answers simply as she finishes texting the woman in question back about having an extended practice after school today. She turns to the other boy to find him silently prompting her to be more specific, which she responds with another sigh and an eye roll. "Water, maple syrup for glucose, lemon for acid, paprika to irritate the bowels, and a dash of ipecac, a vomiting agent," she recites verbatim from memory, silently delighting in the way the other girls turn a sickly shade of green at the mention of Sue's revolting concoction.

The dubious jock stares at Santana for a moment trying to determine whether or not she's just messing with him. Turning his attention back to the bottle in his hands, he hesitates for a moment before unscrewing the cap on it and leaning in to smell its contents. His head snaps back almost instantly, his expression pulled into one of utter disgust.

"_**Ugh**_! Does she _**really**_ make you drink this?" A horror-stricken Dave inquires incredulously.

"It's not so bad once you get used to it," Santana shrugs idly before her phone starts buzzing once again in front of her on the table. Looking towards the other Cheerios, they all shake their heads at David letting him know that there is no getting used to Sue's Master Cleanse. The mix of curious, amused and provoking looks from his fellow male athletes is enough to goad his male ego into reluctantly bringing the bottle to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Santana warns in her trademark mischievous sing-song tone, not even having to take her eyes off her phone to know what the other boy was doing, a smirk playing on her lips.

With that simple declaration, the table erupts into chaos. The boys all egging David on to drink it while the Cheerios work to talk him out of it, all of them wanting to stay on their squad captain's good side by not allowing her boyfriend to make himself sick. For her part, Santana moves at a leisurely pace to patiently close her phone and turn her body to face her boyfriend, crossing her arms over her chest and arching an eyebrow up at the other boy challengingly.

Not giving himself the opportunity to back out, Dave quickly tilts his head back and takes a mouthful of the mixture, instantly regretting it once it hits his taste buds. His eyes begin to water as he simple holds the liquid in his mouth, his body rebelling against him and refusing to allowing him to swallow it. After several false starts, he manages to swallow it down with in a single strained gulp, immediately gasping for air afterwards. He makes several small choking and gagging sounds, his body heaving slightly in reaction before chasing the taste out of his mouth by chugging his soda.

"What…the…_**hell**_?" David gasps, his face red, as he tries to collect himself.

"You _**were**_ warned," Santana is quick to smugly remind him.

"That is _**awful**_," Dave candidly supplies. "Coach Sylvester should go to prison for making you guys drink that. Does she get pleasure from watching you drink it or something?" He asks almost rhetorically.

"Coach swears by it," Santana retorts easily.

"She says she hasn't had a solid meal since, like, the 80s," one of the other Cheerios supplies in agreement, blatantly sucking up to the Head Cheerio.

"That would explain why Coach Sylvester's such a bitch," one of the mulleted hockey players jokes, earning a high-five from a couple of the guys around him and amused looks from some of the Cheerios.

"What, _**exactly**_, are you trying to imply Nielson?" Santana inquires, her calm tone belied by her dark expression.

"Huh?" The boy in question wonders in confusion. David can only watch helplessly knowing that Santana only refers to someone by their last name when she's angry with them, placing a large hand on her knee in a casual attempt to restrain her from launching across the table.

"I drink the same thing as Sue, does that make _**me**_ a bitch?" Santana further challenges him, her tone gradually becoming more cold and harsh. Nearly everyone at the table resists the urge to answer her with a resounding 'yes'. "All of the Cheerios drink it. Are we _**all**_ bitches? Including your girlfriend?" She continues, understanding dawning on the other cheerleaders, their looks of amusement dissolving into scowls of their own at the boy.

"What? No! I was just…" the boy trips awkwardly over his words, desperately looking to his teammates and fellow jocks to help him out…but none of them are willing to turn the Latina's wrath back on them.

"_**Nielson**_!" Santana barks before he can erupt into another fit of nonsensical babbling. He turns his frightened, wide-eyed gaze back to the Head Cheerio. "I'm just fucking with you, Rick" Santana chuckles, her expression significantly less severe than it had been mere moments ago. Everyone at the table visibly relaxes at her words. "Besides, we all know that my being a bitch has nothing to do with Sue's Master Cleanse," she smirks self-deprecatingly.

This helps erase the remaining tension at the table as they all laugh, albeit reluctantly at first. Moments later and everyone has already broken back off into their own separate conversations. Santana leans back in her chair and surveys the scene before her, her hands idly toying with her phone on the table in front of her. She and David are seemingly more than content to watch the others as if this was the most natural thing in the world and that they are actually friends with these people rather than just teammates…or the squad captain, in Santana's case.

The couple is so lost in thought that they almost don't notice the silence that descends upon the table or that everyone is staring at Santana. It takes a moment, but Santana realizes that they're staring _**behind**_ her and not _**at**_ her. Though almost afraid to turn around, she does so anyway…

**Meanwhile, Moments Earlier**

Artie has spent the entire lunch period trying to engage his more-distracted-than-usual girlfriend in conversation. When she does deign something worthy of a response, it's still usually only in the form of a single syllable word. Today he's spent almost as much time watching the obnoxious red and white table in the middle of the cafeteria as his girlfriend.

"Hey Britt, you excited for Regionals on Saturday?" Artie desperately attempts to drag her attention away from the Cheerio/jock table.

Brittany briefly peels her gaze off the back of Santana's head to shoot her boyfriend a weak, polite smile. She doesn't get the opportunity to answer as a commotion breaks out at the Cheerios' table, yelling and bickering followed by a round of cheers and laughter. Her body turned slightly towards her brute of a boyfriend, Artie is able to detect a hint of amusement visible on Santana's profile.

The wheelchair-bound boy can't help but glare at the Latina for her continued campaign to break him and Brittany up. Even though there is nothing about her recent behavior since leaving New Directions to suggest that she has an ulterior motive involving their relationship, Artie is still convinced she's up to something. He knows that the tan girl has some kind of hold over his girlfriend and he can't even pretend that he knows the whole story behind the true nature of the girls' relationship. All he knows is that something has to give so that Brittany can finally move on…with him, of course.

Artie is shaken from his dark musings by an eruption of laughter from the Cheerio/jock table once more. He narrows his eyes once more at the back of the Cheerio Captain's head as he notices the soft gaze his girlfriend is sending her way. The fact that the Latina is now dating David Karofsky, the bane of the glee club's existence (second only to one Sue Sylvester) for the last two years, is the last straw in terms of trying to give her the benefit of the doubt for his girlfriend's sake.

Impulsively, Artie finds himself rolling over towards the Cheerio table with his expression set in determination. The concerned and curious questions from the others at the Glee table fall on deaf ears. Before he knows it, he's stopped behind a seemingly content and almost relaxed Latina. As soon as the table goes quiet as they become aware of him, he begins to feel his awkwardness making its presence known. He swears that in the precious moments between the time Santana realized someone was behind her until she turned around and saw him his life flashed before his eyes…it didn't take long.

Arching an expectant eyebrow, Santana waits a moment for the newcomer to speak, rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest when she is met with silence. "What is it Flash Gordon?" She eventually asks after waiting long enough.

"Santana…" David utters her name in a gently reprimanding tone, punctuating his signal for her to be nice(r) with a brief squeeze to her knee that his hand is still resting on.

"Sorry…or whatever," the dark-haired girl rolls her eyes, sounding anything _**but**_ sorry. "What is it '_**Loser**_'?"' She corrects herself, noting the look of disappointment on David's face. "What? 'Loser' isn't racist or sexist or discriminatory," she firmly defends her choice of addressing the other boy.

Artie almost has to do a double-take at the fact that _**Karofsky**_ was silently _**telling**_ _**Santana**_ to be nice. "You need to apologize to Brittany for whatever it is you did wrong…and stop messing with her head," he says as firmly as he can muster…which isn't saying much.

The table is eerily silent as they await Santana's potential blowup, every one of them knowing that discussing Brittany with the Latina, _**especially**_ now, was a serious faux pas. "I don't know what you're talking about…and it sounds like you have no idea what you're talking about either," Santana states in a deceptively calm tone, her neutral expression giving nothing away either.

"I'm talking about how you were your usual impulsive and irresponsible self and did or said something to ruin your relationship with the _**one**_ person in the world that was able to deal with your own special brand of bullshit and trick others into believing you possessed even a _**shred**_ of humanity," Artie vents his anger at the girl that still has a very large piece of _**his**_ girlfriend's heart, scoffing when she doesn't even bat an eye at the verbal lashing.

"_**Hey**_!" Dave barks sharply at the boy in the wheelchair. "Enough. Get lost," he orders the other boy, his concerned gaze briefly flicking to Santana. He is worried about Artie's words only further reinforcing her negative self-image. The fact that he is the only one at the table that has any idea what _**really**_ happened between the two girls and, therefore, how the other boy couldn't be any further off the mark isn't lost on him.

An indignant Artie shoots the football player a dirty look for interfering in his 'conversation' with the brunette Head Cheerio. "But-"

Artie cuts himself off with a surprisingly girlish squeak of fear when Santana quickly scrapes her chair around to face him and leans down so they're eye-to-eye, one hand on either armrest of his wheelchair. Despite his newfound anti-bullying stance, David can't find it in him to intervene because, as far as he's concerned, Artie deserves whatever he gets. The others at the table watch on, equally from a lack of sympathy as well as their own inherent fear of the Latina…no matter how much she's seemingly been changing lately.

Swallowing nervously, Artie can't help but silently compare Santana to the black panther from the Jungle Cat exhibit at the zoo last weekend: her body exudes nothing but an unflappable gracefulness and sense of self-control but her eyes are dangerous and burn with the intensity of her anger. Her proximity is unnerving and he's more than a little afraid of her looming over him the way she is.

"Listen up, Hoveround, you're lucky I'm trying to turn over a new leaf because, otherwise, I'd be turning _**you**_ over in your chair right now," Santana hisses menacingly with only David and the Cheerio to her left hearing her…aside from Artie.

"Um…" Artie stammers, not sure what to make of how the captain of the Cheerios so easily managed to turn the tables on him.

"Go. Away," Santana over-enunciates each syllable harshly, sitting up straight in her chair as she releases his armrests and sets her expression back to neutral before turning back around to the others at the table. She casually runs her hands down her Cheerio skirt to smooth out any invisible wrinkles. David almost instantly takes her hand back in his own as a sign of support, noticing that her body relaxes as soon as she hears Artie wheeling away.

The bell rings mere moments later and Artie couldn't be more grateful. After that little run-in, the last thing he wants to do is go back and tell everyone what had happened. He briefly meets Brittany's eyes before she is swept away by a sea of students.

Santana remains seated at the table. The other Cheerios and jocks stay put as well, the cheerleaders knowing that they don't leave until the Captain dismisses them…and they apparently relayed the information to their boyfriends who sit awkwardly by their sides.

"Today's practice has been upgraded to a double as per Coach Sue," Santana informs the other Cheerios idly as though she's informing them about weather, glaring as they groan in response. "Let's go," she says to dismiss the others. David automatically shoulders her backpack as well as his own before dropping his hand to link with hers. The Latina playfully rolls her eyes as they make their way to cafeteria exit, missing his frown when she chucks her barely touched apple in the trash bin on their way out.

* * *

**Friday – 5:20 pm**

David stops at a red light while on his way to Santana's house, glancing at the girl in the passenger's side seat. She has been staring at her phone for the better part of the drive with her thumb hovering over the send button. Sitting at the light, he takes the opportunity to crane his neck and see what she can't decide whether or not to send.

"'Good luck tomorrow'?" He asks, confused as he reads the three simple words out loud.

Santana snaps her head up to look at him with narrowed eyes. "Just watch the damn road," she growls.

Rolling his eyes as the light turns green, David resumes the drive. "What's tomorrow?" He asks anyways, ignoring her deep scowl.

"New Directions is going to Regionals," she eventually mumbles after several long moments.

"And you're wishing them luck even though you haven't…" Dave trails off mid-sentence before his features settle into a knowing smirk and she replies with an inquiring eyebrow arched up. "You can't decide to send that to Brittany or not, right?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

"You needs to mind ya _**own**_ bidness and gets off mah back," Santana bites back, slipping easily into her faux 'Lima Heights' persona.

Dave has learned over the last several days that Santana only speaks like that when she's being defensive and frustrated. Now it amuses him how annoyed the Head Cheerio gets when she sees that he's not the least intimidated by the act anymore. "Come on Santana-Banana, you can talk to me," he tries not to laugh at the appalled look on her face from his words…or perhaps the 'sensitive boyfriend' tone of his voice…but it's probably both.

"First off, you ever calls me _**that**_ again Imma pull out one of tha razorblades I keep in my hair and cut off 'Little Dave' so you won't be a gay _**boy**_ anymore, but a straight _**girl**_. Understood?" She asks menacingly, crossing her arms and turning to him, her head bobbing slightly as she waits for him to reply.

"You keep razorblades in your hair?" He can't help but ask, not sure whether to be amused at her bullshitting him or scared of it being true.

"Sure do. _**Tons**_. All up in there," she replies without hesitation, gesturing idly at her hair.

"Why?" He questions, brows furrowed.

"In case I gots ta cut a bitch," she shrugs nonchalantly.

At this David does smirk at her, earning one in response. Noticing her brief preoccupation, he quickly reaches over and snatches her phone away. He hits the send button before lightly tossing it back on the stunned girl's lap. "You were going to drive yourself, and _**me**_, crazy with trying to decide what to do about that damn text," he explains himself casually.

The Latina looks down at the phone in her lap. "Thanks," she mumbles, barely audibly.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch what you just said," he prods her with a smirk, knowing full-well what she said.

"I said to watch the road before you get us killed," she lies, her expression still harsh, but a hint of humor filtering into her tone.

"You're welcome," he smiles slightly at her as they pull up into her driveway.

The petite brunette rolls her eyes good-naturedly before opening her door, getting out, and hefting up her Cheerio gym bag from the floor only to have Dave immediately snatch it up for her. "_**Excuse**_ you!" She glowers at the uncalled for move.

"This thing weighs more than you do. I got it," he replies nonchalantly, nudging her with his elbow to go ahead.

Santana glowers at him before swiftly turning on her heel and marching to her front door. "I don't need you to coddle me David. I can carry my own bag," she bitches at him when she senses him standing behind her while she unlocks the door.

"Jesus, Lopez. There is nothing wrong with letting someone help you without it being, like, an attack on your autonomy or having some ulterior motive or whatever," he rolls his eyes, exasperated. The Latina shoots a glare at him, but says nothing as she enters the house, the football player right behind her.

Dave closes the door behind him and takes in his surroundings. From what he can tell, the house is tastefully decorated and it's obvious that her family has money without going out of their way to flaunt it. However, it doesn't feel like anyone actually _**lives**_ here and there are no personal touches to hint at what kind of family this is. This house has the cold, detached formality of a model home.

"Are you coming or what?" An irritated Santana barks from the top of the stairs, shaking him from his thoughts. David practically scurries up the steps and follows her down the hall to her bedroom. "Wherever is fine," she waves her hand idly to indicate that he can drop her bag anywhere before disappearing into her walk-in closet to find something to change into.

"Where _**is**_ everyone?" David asks as he takes note of how different this room is from the rest of the house. The black walls are a stark contrast to the crisp white paint everywhere else. There is a distinct lived-in quality to Santana's room that is almost overwhelming compared to how sterile and stifling the rest of the house is.

"Work," Santana replies and Dave doesn't think it should be possible for one word to carry so much bitterness. Upon seeing the other boy's discomfort, she heaves an irritated sigh. "My father's the head of neurosurgery at the Cleveland Clinic and my mother is a corporate attorney handling some big case in Chicago," she elaborates as she tries to choose a top to go with the short-but-not-too-short skirt she decided on.

"Oh," Dave says, not sure what to make of this revelation.

Santana closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. This awkwardness is _**exactly**_ why Brittany was the only person that she ever really let come over on a regular basis. "I'm going to take a shower since I didn't get a chance to after Cheerios practice. TV is downstairs and there's a ton of movies. I think there's soda in fridge. Help yourself to whatever," she dismisses him before disappearing into her en suite bathroom. David just stares at the empty spot where she once stood, wondering if the last thirty seconds really just happened.

* * *

**Forty-Five Minutes Later**

"You know, if you weren't gay I would be totally creeped out right now," Santana informs the boy lounging on her bed watching her apply her eyeliner.

"I wouldn't blame you," Dave smirks.

After the Latina went to take her shower, he didn't go downstairs to watch TV or anything else like that. He grabbed two bottles of water, one for himself and one for Santana in case she was still thirsty from practice earlier. Then he went back and waited for her in her bedroom, the only reasonably hospitable place in the house. It was too hard for him to breath anywhere else because of how suppressing the atmosphere was. When she came back in from the shower, she nearly had a heart-attack when she saw him still in there. Dave was only barely able to keep from asking her how she can stand living in this house because he didn't even want to think about how she would react.

"Isn't there some sports thing on that you'd rather be watching?" She questions with narrowed eyes.

"Not really," David shrugs as he sits up and redirects his gaze to the fringes on one of the throw pillows on the other girl's bed that he's been playing with. Honestly, he'd always wondered about why girls took so long to get ready which is why he unconsciously found himself watching his 'girlfriend' for the last half hour.

For her part, Santana is trying her best not to be unnerved by Dave's attention. The only other person that's ever watched her get ready is Brittany…and even then the other girl only ever looked on with a sad expression on her face. Brittany always wanted them to stay in together rather than go to those stupid parties. A wave of regret crashes over the Latina long enough for her to still the hand applying her lip gloss before she shakes the thoughts away.

Santana briefly flits her gaze to the reflection of her supposed boyfriend, who still seems to be watching her. Unlike Brittany who only ever looked on unhappily, Dave is observing her with a keen interest. He seems just as fascinated now as he was when she was blow-drying and flat-ironing her hair. Pressing her lips together and rubbing them to ensure even covering, she refocuses on her own reflection to scrutinize her appearance.

"Do you have to do this every day before school?" He asks suddenly, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.

"Yeah. Why?" She questions suspiciously after a moment.

"No reason. Do all girls take this long to get ready?" He continues, feeling bold after she didn't simply glare after his last question.

"Some," she replies shortly, wondering where this is coming from.

"I've always just been kind of curious," Dave shrugs, slightly embarrassed as he answers her silent question.

"Yeah, well, let me know if you need any makeup tips," Santana replies, sounding far more bitchy and defensive than she intended.

"I don't know why you bother with it in the first place," the other boy rolls his eyes, not appearing particularly put off by her attitude.

"What is _**that**_ supposed to mean?" The Latina snaps as she whips her head around to face him, not bothering to mask how offended she is and hoping that her anger is enough to conceal her self-consciousness.

"It means that you're beautiful enough without it and putting on all that shit only really covers up your natural beauty. I don't understand why you want to hide it," he elaborates after her outburst, kicking himself for not thinking about how she would interpret it.

Santana allows herself about half a second to be touched by his words before brushing it away. "Whatever. It's not like you're some expert at female beauty," she mumbles before busying herself with screwing the top back on her tube of lip gloss.

Dave heaves a heavy sigh as he sits up on the other girl's bed and decides that this is no time to tackle her insecurities…but silently reminds himself to wear a cup when he _**does**_ decide to bring it up again. "Are we ready?" He asks instead.

Casting one last look at her reflection, Santana nods slightly to herself in satisfaction, glad that the topic has been dropped. "Let's go," she affirms, standing up and grabbing her purse as she drops the tube of lip gloss in it.

"Why'd you get so freaked out with me watching you anyways?" He can't help but ask as he follows her out of the room.

Santana narrows her eyes at him for bringing that up. "It's just weird. Whenever a guy's come here and waited, he's always waited down here. The only one that's ever watched was…" she trails off, not wanting to think about it right now.

Dave waits for a moment before the meaning behind her silence sinks in. "Brittany," he fills in the blank knowingly.

"She hated when we went to parties because she preferred it when it was just us," she shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant.

"San…" he says softly as realization sinks in and he understands why his watching her made her uncomfortable. The only other person to do so was someone that cared about her…loved her. It wasn't someone that was just trying to get in her pants. She associates having someone watch her get ready with something only someone that cares about her would do and she can't let herself believe that Dave might care about her too, even just platonically.

"Whatever," Santana brushes off his concerned tone as she makes sure to grab her keys by the door before they leave. "What am I supposed to even call you?" She asks, seemingly, randomly as they head out to his truck.

"What?" Dave is understandably lost at her change in topic.

"Well, I can't very well call you 'Karofsky' around your family, now can I?" She snarks with an eye roll. "And I know you hate 'Davy'. So, does your family call you 'Dave' or 'David' or what?"

"Whatever is fine," he mumbles uncomfortably.

"I can always call you 'Snookie-bear'," Santana arches an eyebrow at the suggestion, reveling in the mortified look on his face. "What do _**you**_ prefer?" She finally asks after going back and forth for far too long.

This gives the other boy pause since no one has asked him that before. "I've always kinda liked my name the way it is. Just 'David' is fine," he nods after a moment of deliberation.

"All right, 'Just David' it is then," she smirks at the look he gives her. "Don't even think of calling me anything other than 'Santana' or 'San'," she warns as she notices him opening his mouth to say something.

"Noted," he nods in acknowledgement, sharing a small smile with the girl beside him.

* * *

There will be _**a lot**_ taking place in the next chapter. It's very Pezsky-centered ('Pezsky' pronounced like 'Pesky', for the anyone wondering) chapter, but there will be a short appearance by Quinn and a slightly longer appearance by Brittany.

Prepare yourselves because next chapter you will meet David's family when Santana comes over for dinner. There are a few cute moments surrounding the family dinner, but I can't say any more than that without giving too much away. Also, the entirety of the party will take place in the next chapter as well. Yes, that means more drunk-Santana (Drunktana?)…but only mildly so.

For those of you wondering, the _Mash-Off_ reference was just a name: Rick "The Stick" Neilson. He was the mulleted hockey player that ran against Brittany, Kurt and Rachel for class president.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 06 January 2012


	7. Teddy Bear

**A/N**: It was mentioned that it didn't feel right for Brittany to have done nothing when Artie confronted Santana and, unfortunately, nothing in what I'd had written addressed the scene ever again. Rather than leave that as a loose end or dropped storyline (as the show's _**actual**_ writers so often do), there's a scene in here near the end that addresses it.

**Spoilers**: _Original Song_

**Warnings**: Language, underage drinking, recreational drug use, 'cutesy' stuff involving Dave's family

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Teddy Bear**

"Calm the fuck down," Santana hisses as they sit in front of David's house in his truck while he tries to compose himself.

"I hate that this is one _**more**_ thing I'm lying to them about. I _**hate**_ lying to my family," he defends his nervous demeanor.

"It will be okay. We're kind of almost friends – or _**something**_ – so let's just act like that. We'll just act like we have been these last few days when it's just us-"

"Minus the gay jokes," David interrupts to remind her.

"But minus the gay jokes," Santana amends with an eye roll. "We'll hold hands and give them maybe an occasional kiss on the cheek or something just to keep them from getting too suspicious of our overly-platonic relationship, but that's it. None of that cutesy crap we practically cringe through at school. Okay?" She raises her eyebrows in question.

The jock releases a deep sigh and relaxes as he tries to steel himself for the next hour or two. "Okay," he nods before finally unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car.

Santana grins to herself with pride at being able to put him at ease as she slowly undoes her own seatbelt. Before she can even reach for the handle, her door is being opened for her and she is momentarily caught off guard, not even having realized that David jogged around the front of the car to open her door for her. She takes the offered hand instead of smacking it away and growling about how she doesn't need help to get out of a car. The taller boy offers an awkward half-smile when she allows him to help her to her feet.

"Never would've pegged you for being such a gentleman _**Davie-poo**_," the Latina teases gently to cover how touched she is at his thoughtfulness, deciding to keep their friendly atmosphere intact by not pulling her hand away from his clammy, nervous grip.

"You deserve more respect than what those other guys gave you and Puck's a jerk for not treating you better than he did," Dave replies with nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "Just be yourself and my family will love you…Santana-Banana," he adds the nickname with a smirk.

"_**Don't**_ call me that," she warns with a laugh.  
David chuckles along with her, tugging her to a stop a couple feet away from the door, suddenly serious again. "Before we go in you should know that-"

The front door is thrown open abruptly enough to cause both teens to jump. Upon spinning around and staring straight into the open house, Santana's brows furrow as she doesn't see anyone standing there.

"Davy!" A small voice enthusiastically squeals. Santana drops her gaze to the small girl, her height barely reaching to the boy's waist, that launches herself at the blushing jock and hugs his left leg. "Where've you been? I was worried," the tiny brunette pouts.

Dave, somehow, turns even redder when he sees the Latina quirking an eyebrow and mouthing the word 'Davy?' with a smirk. "I told you last night I was going to be with my girlfriend after school today, remember?" He asks her kindly.

"Oh yeah," the girl giggles obviously as she detaches herself from her big brother and turns to face the Cheerio. "I'm Katelyn," she introduces herself, holding out her hand.

Ignoring the embarrassed expression on David's face and the way his eyes seem to be pleading with her to be nice, Santana simply smiles softly at the girl and carefully shakes the offered hand. "It's nice to meet you Katelyn. I'm Santana," she politely returns the formality.

As they release hands, Katelyn looks up at her brother with confusion. "I thought 'Zio said your girlfriend's name was Satan," she frowns, scrutinizing the Latina suspiciously, unsure which one of them was lying: Santana or Azimio.

"He was just being mean," Dave clarifies, unwilling to meet the older girl's eyes.

"Oh good," her smile reappears before she returns her gaze to the Latina. "Santana's a nice name. Much better than 'Satan'," she concludes sweetly.

"Well thank you. 'Katelyn' is a really nice name too," Santana smiles back at the girl.

The small brunette's cheeks turn pink at the compliment and she looks down at her sock-clad feet on the porch. "You can call me 'Katie'," she mumbles shyly. Santana immediately decides that this little girl is just too adorable for words, liking her already but not getting the chance to say so just yet.

"Dave, Sweetie, is that you?" A distinctly feminine voice calls from inside the house.

Katie, recovered from her sudden bout of bashfulness, grips Santana's hand with her small fingers as she goes back inside the house pulling the unresisting Cheerio behind her with Dave nervously trailing behind. "Yeah Mom, they're here. His girlfriend's really pretty," the girl calls out as they enter the house.

A charmed Santana looks over at her horrified beard as she continues to be led through the house. "This what you were trying to tell me?" She questions him quietly, amused.

"I'm sorry I forgot to mention my sister," he apologizes sincerely. "You're not mad are you?" He asks uncertainly, knowing that not everyone was okay being around smaller kids. His relief is instantaneous when she shakes her head with a small but genuine smile as they reach the kitchen.

"You must be Santana!" The cheery voice of his mother brings Dave out of his relieved state. "We've heard so much about you," she mentions with slight hesitation but keeping the same pleasant smile on her face. Dave's face immediately falls.

"I assure you, Mrs. Karofsky, only about half of it is true," Santana replies without losing her stride, a winning smile firmly in place.

Mrs. Karofsky laughs openly at the response. She makes sure that the dinner she is cooking can survive without her for a few moments before wiping her hands on a clean hand towel and approaching the girl. Placing a hand on either of the petite girl's shoulders, she holds her arm's length to get a good look at her.

"None of this 'Mrs. Karofsky ' nonsense. Just call me Diane. Paul, David's father, just got home from work and should be down shortly," she smiles warmly at the teen, gently squeezing her shoulders before pulling away to check on dinner.

Before Santana can even begin to interpret the older woman's gesture, she feels a gentle tug at her wrist and looks down at a grinning Katie. "You wanna come see my room?" The small girl asks in a way that suggests that it's really more of a command than a question.

"Katie-"

"Don't worry David. I'm sure you'll survive without me for five minutes," Santana smirks, interrupting his protests before allowing herself to be led to the small girl's bedroom.

Dave stands there staring off after Santana even after she disappeared upstairs. For some reason, he feels incredibly exposed without the other girl by his side right now with his mother so close. The older woman turns to watch him, her lips curled up into a soft smile at the sight of her son staring off after his girlfriend with a longing expression on his face, _**completely**_ misreading the situation.

"Santana's a beautiful girl, David," she says conversationally, stifling a laugh when he jumps at her voice.

"Yeah…she is," he agrees as he reluctantly redirects his attention to his mother.

"She seems sweet," she adds, arching a questioning brow when Dave smirks at her comment.

"Santana definitely has her moments, but she's actually pretty great once you get to know her," he explains surprising himself when he acknowledges that he means it. As his words sink in, he inwardly cringes when he realizes that he implied that he intends for her to be around long enough for her to get close with his family.

"I look forward to it," Diane replies warmly, unaware of her son choking back his guilt at the happy and hopeful tone of her voice.

"Look forward to what?" A new voice enters the conversation, causing the other two to turn towards the source.

The older woman smiles at the appearance of her husband. "Getting to know David's lovely girlfriend," she answers cheekily.

"Oh! Is she here?" Paul asks eagerly, checking around to see if the girl is hiding somewhere in the kitchen.

"_**Katelyn**_ is showing Santana her room," Diane informs him, clearly amused by her youngest child's enthusiasm.

"That poor girl," Paul chuckles, shaking his head at the thought of the bubbly nine year old talking his son's girlfriend's ear off. "David, son, what are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be rescuing Santana from Katie's stuffed animal collection and her endless mouth?" He questions good-naturedly, his wife laughing along.

David's face flushes bright red at his parents and he instantly regrets bringing Santana, fake girlfriend or not, over to meet his embarrassing family. "Yeah…but I'd appreciate it if you guys would _**try**_ to act normal and _**not**_ humiliate me, okay?" He asks, clearly pleading.

"No promises," Diane winks, laughing at her son's horrified expression. "Go on," she prompts him to find his girlfriend. "But no funny business. If you go to your room you're to keep the door open, you hear me?" She adds firmly but with a slight smile still gracing her features.

"Yes Mom," Dave mumbles, his ears red and burning with discomfiture along with the rest of his face before shuffling off to find the Latina. Groaning to himself when he manages to hear his mother telling his father how cute she thinks he and Santana are together.

The tall jock pauses as soon as he reaches the top of the stairs at the sound of laughter drifting down the hall. He quietly makes his way down the hall to his sister's room and peeks into the open doorway, trying not to draw to much attention to himself. His mouth falls open ever so slightly at the scene playing out in front of him.

"Hey Davy!" Katie excitedly calls out as soon as she notices her older brother watching. "Santana and I were playing therapy with Snowshoe McMuffin and Count Fuzzy von Snaggletooth," she tells him in a matter-of-fact tone.

"'Therapy'?" The other boy questions warily as he slowly makes his way into the room, glancing between his beaming sister, a smiling Santana and the several stuffed animals strewn around them on the bed.

"Yes. Apparently Snowshoe is mad at Fuzzy for trying to eat all of her friends and she's trying to convince him to go to couple's counseling with her, right?" Santana turns to nine year old to seek confirmation, a still-grinning Katie nodding her head wildly, pleased that the older girl remembered.

"O…kay," a perplexed David responds as he looks between 'Snowshoe' the stuffed bunny in his sister's hand and 'Fuzzy' the bear in Santana's.

"Wanna play?" A bright-eyed Katie asks, silently begging him to join in.

"Um…"

"You can take over for Count Fuzzy even though 'Tana's really good at doing the voices 'cause she has to be Dr. Whiskers P. Fluffypants now that they're getting ready to start their session," Katie explains as though it was common knowledge and that her brother should know exactly what she was talking about.

"Why does Santana '_**have**_' to be the doctor?" He wonders, his brows furrowed over the fact that he even asked that in the first place. He frowns as his sister laughs and the Latina chuckles at his question.

"Dr. Fluffypants is a girl. Duh, Davy," Katie rolls her eyes as she hands Santana the stuffed cat in question and fixes an expectant gaze on her brother, patting an empty spot on the bed for him to sit.

"I don't-"

David's refusal is cut off by Santana roughly grabbing his arm and pulling him so he is at eye level with her. She brings her mouth to his ear so that David's face is blocking Katie from seeing the scowl on her face. "Sit down and play with your _**fucking**_ sister," she hisses menacingly, low enough for just him to hear.

"I would _**love**_ to," David blurts out automatically, his eyes comically wide in fear as he sits where his sister indicated with his body facing Santana, stretching one leg out straight and the other one bent at the knee. He cringes as the bed creaks under his weight.

"Good boy," Santana praises with a smirk as she 'affectionately' pats his knee before setting the stuffed bear in his lap.

There is a brief and mildly awkward silence until David picks up the stuffed bear and turns to the two girls. "So…" he trails off, not sure what to do since it's been far too long since he's done this.

The Latina smiles genuinely in appreciation for him joining them. "So, what seems to be the problem?" She asks them through the stuffed cat, comically raising pitch of her voice and an over-exaggerated solemnity to her tone. Katie begins to giggle uncontrollably and Dave can't help but roll his eyes and chuckle.

"Well, Snowshoe doesn't like it when I'm just being a bear and doing my bear things," David answers with embellished indignation, his voice humorously deeper than usual as he plays along. Santana grins, subtly nodding her head in approval.

"You eat my friends, Fuzzy," Katie deadpans in rebuttal, unable to hold in her laughter any longer.

"Imma bear and that's just how we bears roll. I gotsta get my eats on," David defends himself haughtily, unable to keep from grinning with the girls as he lets himself relax and not worry about what anyone is thinking about him for the first time in a long while. Santana sticks her tongue out at him for openly mocking her 'Lima Heights' speech pattern.

Paul smiles warmly from the doorway. His wife sent him up to tell the kids it was time for dinner but once he stumbled upon this little scene, he couldn't bring himself to interrupt. Catching sight of his wife approaching him with a confused look on her face, he holds a finger up to his lips before tilting his head at the door. Glancing in, it doesn't take but a moment before a grin finds itself planted on her face as she witnesses the increasingly elusive happy, carefree and open David that started to slowly fade away once he started hitting puberty.

Regrettably, she clears her throat to gain the kids' attention. "Dinner's ready," Diane informs them, her tone apologetic at having to disturb their fun.

* * *

Santana ignored the strange look David sent her when she offered to help his mother clean up after dinner. She knows that the last thing anyone would expect from her is that she'd actually be helpful. However, she's never really had much experience with the whole 'family dynamic' thing in her own home and she'd only catch glimpses of it at the Pierce's considering how nontraditional they can be. The Karofsky's, on the other hand, are just so…_**normal**_ and they really went out of their way to make her feel welcome tonight. So, Santana figures that the very least she can do is show her appreciation by drying the dishes as Mrs. Karofsky – _**Diane**_ – washes them.

"Dinner was wonderful. Thank you for having me over," Santana breaks the comfortable silence halfway through their task.

"It was a pleasure having you, Dear," the older woman sincerely replies and the Latina's lips unconsciously quirk into a soft smile. "Though, I have to admit that I was a little nervous before meeting you. Azimio said…" she trails off, shaking her head and letting the smile return to her face. "It doesn't matter," she stops herself from repeating the other boy's words, remembering how upset it made her and David.

The woman's tone causes Santana to pause in her actions and look over at her with a sigh. "I admit that I've not always been the nicest person to some of my peers and there have been times where I've been nothing but an outright bully," she confesses honestly, not sure why she's even going there with the other woman. "But I can see that about myself now and I'm trying to change for the better," she adds after a moment.

"You're changing David for the better too and I appreciate that. He never used to be a bully but then he just started turning into this stranger," Diane confides in the teen.

Santana bites her bottom lip and quickly shoots her gaze to see David and Paul talking in the dining room with Katie. "I can relate to that and I think that's why I was able to look past all of that crap to just see _**him**_," she says, playing the 'caring girlfriend' card.

"Paul and I are grateful for that," Diane smiles, drying her hands on a dishtowel before reaching over and gently squeezing the younger girl's arm. "He always had a hard enough time making friends and he never really dated anyone. We were hoping he was just going to be a late-bloomer, but then after everything that happened with that poor Hummel boy…" she shakes her head regretfully.

"You mean with him transferring to a private school?" Santana ventures, interested in where this might be going.

"Yes, Paul and I felt terrible for that boy and his family. It was hard because we raised Dave to be more accepting of people than that and to find out that he'd been bullying another boy for being gay was heartbreaking."

"I bet," the Latina murmurs as she finds herself getting a good sense of what kind of parents her 'boyfriend' has.

"One of the girls in my office suggested to me that David's bullying of that Hummel boy might have been because David might be gay himself," Diane sighs and Santana barely catches herself before she drops the plate she is drying in shock. "Paul and I had discussed it and we were really coming to terms with the possibility…but then we found out about you," she smiles as she turns her full attention back on the other girl.

"What would have happened if David _**had**_ been gay?" Santana asks hypothetically, her demeanor exuding nonchalance.

Diane tilts her head to the side in thought. "Paul and I would have waited for him to tell us and then we would have supported him and loved him just as we always have. He's still our son and who he loves will never change that. All that matters is that he's happy," she replies with a soft smile.

"He's lucky," Santana mumbles to herself as she stares off into the dining room.

At the girl's tone, Diane gives her an odd look. "Everything okay?" She asks, feeling like she's missing some vital piece of the picture the girl is presenting her with.

Santana shakes her head out of her thoughts and fixes a smile onto her face, albeit a somewhat strained one. "When I was 12 and I asked my parents if I could get my ears pierced, they threatened to send me to a private school to get me away from the 'corruptive influence' of my friends. I would hate to think about what they would do if I had been gay or got pregnant at 16 or, god forbid, brought home a B," she smirks at this last part to lighten the mood.

"I'm sure they only want what they think is best for you," Diane responds after a moment. She remembers vaguely what the Lopez's were like back in high school, Santiago was two years older than her and Maribel was one year older, so she didn't share any classes with them. From what she remembers, they had been very serious and controlled even then, Maribel was especially ruthless as co-captain of the cheer squad and Santiago had been brutal on the football field. It seems that they approached their parenting styles the exact same way.

"I can see where they're coming from and I know they just want me to succeed in life just like any other parent would," Santana replies, slipping back behind her well-adjusted-with-nothing-to-hide mask with a winning smile.

"That's good," Diane nods, choosing not to point out that at no point did Santana mention anything about her parents wanting her to be happy…just a success.

"Sorry to interrupt," David nervously cuts in as he steps into the kitchen. "But I wanted to see if you were about ready," he anxiously directs his attention to Santana.

"I think so," the Latina says, looking to Diane who simply nods her confirmation. "Let's get going then," she smiles, thankful to be rescued from the increasingly awkward conversation. "It was really nice meeting you," she tells his parents and sister sincerely.

"Santana?" Katie asks from the older girl's side.

"Yes?" She answers, the smile on her face not the least bit forced when addressing the nine year old.

"Is it true that you're a Cheerio?" She asks, awestruck.

"I _**am**_," Santana grins.

"Don't be modest, San," Dave admonishes with a smirk. "She's the _**captain**_ of the _**whole**_ squad," he corrects, his tone embellishing the amount of influence the other girl has.

"Really? That is _**so**_ cool. I want to be a Cheerio when I get to high school," the young girl divulges, much to everyone's amusement.

"Well, I'm like this with the coach," Santana crosses her fingers to illustrate her point. "So I can put in a good word for you if you like," she offers, knowing that chances were slim to the girl still being interested five years from now after hearing all of the Sue Sylvester horror stories passed down every year.

"You'd do that?" Katie asks in awe, her face lighting up as she bounces over and wraps her arms around the older girl with a big grin when Santana simply nods. "Thanks. You're the best," she declares.

* * *

**Party**

"Jesus, I just realized that Kenny Freeman has a mullet," David notes under his breath.

Santana snorts her laughter into the highly alcoholic mystery drink in her plastic cup. "Hair _**that**_ bad needs an intervention," she agrees with a biting tone before her lips curl into an odd cross between a smirk and a sneer. "I don't know which is worse; Kenny's mullet or his girlfriend's fuckin'…what _**is**_ that, a bouffant?" She struggles to remember what that atrocity is called, her right hand coming up and performing some vague gesture on top of her own head.

Dave shakes his head, chuckling quietly. "And why is Derrick Warton wearing that stupid trucker hat? No one wears those anymore and it makes him look like more of a fucking redneck than usual," he grumbles into his cup.

"Seriously. And that's not even the worst part of his ensemble," Santana points out.

"Flip-flops and jeans," the other boy states by way of agreement with a solemn nod.

"Yeah…and he's even wearing socks _**with**_ his flip-flops. Jesus," she groans with an epic eye roll before downing the rest of her drink. "Throw in that busted ass flannel shirt and his greasy hair and what you have is a hot fucking mess," she adds.

"And has he ever heard of shaving? Those patches of hair make it look like he glued pubes to his face," David points out with a disgusted look, smirking at the other girl's laughter.

"He looks super dirty and unkempt," the Latina summarizes.

"It's not cute," he says with a frown.

"No, it really isn't," Santana agrees before looking at her 'boyfriend' and arching a brow. "You're _**really**_ gay," she states simply before grinning at him. "I never would've thought I'd be bitching about our classmates' lack of fashion with _**you**_, of all people," she chuckles incredulously.

"Yeah, no shit," David concurs, ignoring her remark about him being really gay. "Refill?" He inquires, gesturing to her empty cup.

"Absolutely," Santana replies, gladly handing it over to him.

"I'll be right back," he assures her before disappearing into the throng of drunken teens.

As soon as the hulking figure of the football player disappears, Santana almost immediately regrets not going with him. No, instead she chose to wait in the corner of the living room where the couple has spent the better part of the last hour judging and quietly insulting their peers. The Latina slowly feels herself being overcome with the hollow sensation that usually accompanies the same loneliness and isolation that hits her every day when she goes home to that large empty house. She rolls her eyes at herself as she thinks about how clichéd it is that she feels just as alone in a room full of people at a party as she does in her own home where she literally _**is**_ alone.

Santana knows that all of these depressing feelings she has right now are due to the alcohol, but that doesn't stop her from feeling them. To distract herself from those dark thoughts and emotions, she pulls out her phone and is immediately greeted by the last text she received just before entering the party. Despite having read over it already and knowing that it won't help how she's feeling right now, she still opens it up. It was Brittany's reply to her text wishing her luck tomorrow at Regionals. _Thanks S! Love you. XO _

"I mean it," a voice from behind the Latina states simply.

Santana snaps her head to the side to find Brittany very much in her personal space and looking over her shoulder, only inches separating their faces. She shuts her phone and takes a step forward to put some space between them as she spins on her heel to face the blonde, crossing her arms defensively over her chest and attempting to slide her usual glare back into place.

"What are you doing?" The shorter girl questions, her tone lacking the venom she had intended.

"Calming my nerves before the competition tomorrow," Brittany shrugs innocently, taking in the other girl's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Besides I know you never miss an opportunity to go to a party and I wanted to see you before New Directions competed tomorrow," she adds shyly.

The Latina scowls at how predictable she is and at how it feels like everyone, even Brittany and David, assume that she _**enjoys**_ going to these damn things. "I don't know why," she retorts, honestly baffled even though her tone sounds more hostile than anything.

"_**Yes**_, you _**do**_," the blonde insists. "I _**love**_ you…and I know you love me too," she reminds the other girl, anger seeping into her voice.

Santana's dark scowl falls immediately and her arms drop from their crossed position down to her sides as her eyes scan the crowd to see if anyone heard. "Sh-Shut up, Brittany," she stammers nervously, not sounding nearly as forceful and intimidating as she would have preferred.

Brittany sadly shakes her head at how little it takes to crumble the other girl's confidence and expose her low self-esteem and insecurity. "I don't think it's asking too much to want you to wish me luck tomorrow," she says softly, deciding that her best approach would be to go slow rather than force the girl into talking to her.

"Yeah, hi. I kind of already did," the brunette snarks as she waves her phone idly in the air.

"When _**I**_ wished _**you**_ luck before the State Cheerleading Championship I at least had the balls to do it in person even though I knew that you were probably going to verbally attack me, which you _**did**_. _**I**_ didn't hide behind a text message because I thought that would have been a total cop-out," Brittany snaps irritably.

"Whatever," Santana rolls her eyes.

With a long-suffering sigh, Brittany relaxes her posture and lowers her voice. "Look, I'm really trying here San. Talk to me. _**Please**_," she all but begs.

"Everything okay over here?" A cautious Dave asks as he approaches the tense duo with two cups of…something.

"Yeah," Santana nods a little too eagerly as she takes a long healthy drink from the cup her boyfriend hands her.

"We're great," an unenthusiastic Brittany agrees as she carefully watches the jock, jealousy sparking dangerously in her eyes as she watches him place a possessive arm around her (former) friend's waist, standing a little too close to the Head Cheerio for the blonde's liking.

"I see," the unconvinced boy replies, glancing from the dirty look Brittany is shooting him to the miserable look on his girlfriend's face. "You feeling okay?" He asks the Latina at his side with genuine concern that only confuses the blonde…not that he notices.

Santana fixes her expression back into its typical sneer that expresses her (feigned) confidence and superior attitude before chugging back most of her drink. "I'm feeling _**awesome**_," she smirks boldly before finishing it off while the other two look on with apprehension. "I'm thinking one more of these and I'll be ready to get out of here," she suggestively informs the boy, putting on a good show.

"Uh…okay," David replies as she snatches his cup out of his hand.

"San…" Brittany trails off, knowing that she has no right to interfere with the couple especially since she has a boyfriend of her own…but she's not quite able to just _**not**_ say something.

One look at the blonde causes Santana's features to soften a little. Making the other girl jealous and hurt doesn't feel as good as she thought it would. "Good luck tomorrow Britt," she finally says before walking off with an awkward David in tow. Santana misses the slow smile creeping up on the other girl's face at her words.

"How'd it go?" Another blonde questions, earning a confused look in response. "It looked pretty bad from where I was watching," Quinn elaborates as she gestures in the general direction from where she'd been keeping an eye on them.

"Could've gone better," Brittany admits. "But it could've gone worse too," she smiles.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Karofsky hasn't had _**nearly**_ as much to drink as Santana," she points out with an eyebrow arched expectantly.

With a sigh Brittany averts her eyes and looks down as she kicks idly at the carpet with the tip of her shoe. "I _**know**_. I don't like it any more than you do but it's not like there's anything I can say that won't make me out to be a hippopotamus," she mumbles regretfully.

The shorter blonde tilts her head to the side in confusion before realization sinks in. "You mean a 'hypocrite', Britt?" She speculates.

"Yeah, I guess," she shrugs weakly, still not looking at her friend.

"That's such _**crap**_ B. She might be date raped by that _**thug**_ and you're worried about looking like a _**hypocrite**_? Why would you even _**care**_ how it might look if it meant helping her? You know that if the situation was reversed she would be kicking his ass up and down the block by now for even _**thinking**_ of taking advantage of you regardless of whether you two are fighting or not," Quinn hisses her disapproval, an ever watchful eye kept on the stumbling Latina clinging onto her loathsome boyfriend.

By now there are silent tears making their way down the other blonde's face at her friend's words. "As much as I don't like Karofsky for making Kurt leave and for dating Santana…" Brittany trails off, her jaw clenching at the thought of them together. "I don't like him, but I don't think he'd do that to her," she asserts confidently.

"Explain," the unconvinced former cheer captain practically demands, folding her arms across her chest expectantly.

"When she downed that drink the way she did, he looked worried too. He wouldn't be worried if he didn't care and if he cares then that means he isn't going to hurt her," Brittany justifies, hoping that she's right.

**Meanwhile**

"What the _**hell**_ Santana?" David hisses to his counterpart as she throws back the rest of his drink.

"It's only believable if I'm wasted by the time we leave," the Latina rolls her eyes and scoffs at the other boy, the alcohol clearly having its effect on her motor skills as she nearly trips over her own feet.

"Why does it matter how drunk you are?" The genuinely curious boy questions as he holds the small brunette up.

"Because _**everyone**_ knows how easy I am when I'm drunk _**Davy**_," she caustically explains to him as if it was completely obvious, punctuating her sentence with a rough poke to his chest.

The jock's features soften at the bitterness and pain lacing her words as she spits them out while clinging to him for support. "Santana…"

"Whatever. This party blows anyways," she snorts in disgust at the other partygoers to steer the conversation away from his misplaced sympathy. "I say we go back to my house, get high and go through my DVR," she offers, the smallest bit of hope seeping into her tone.

With his signature awkward smile, David simply nods. "Sounds great," he says, unable to say no when the Latina looks like she could burst into tears at any moment. "Let's go," he steers them towards the front door without incident, ignoring his growing anxiety from never having tried drugs before.

* * *

**Brittany's Room – 45 Minutes Later**

Though almost funny at first, by the sixth time John Lennon's _Watching the Wheels_ sounds from Brittany's phone, Quinn has had about enough. Even though they weren't even really talking about anything important, it's still aggravating to be interrupted every five minutes.

"Seriously B, either answer it or put your phone on silent!" Quinn snaps at the other blonde in frustration.

"Sorry," a sheepish Brittany mumbles, leaning over to her nightstand to put her phone on silent mode before settling back down next to her friend in her bed.

Quinn heaves a sigh at the other girl's suddenly subdued demeanor and decides that it's time to tackle the big elephant in the room. "What's the deal with you and Artie now anyways? Things have been weird between you two since he took you to the zoo last weekend and, up until yesterday, you were planning on spending time with him tonight instead of going to that party," she lays it all out bluntly and waits.

The dancer takes a moment to sort through her thoughts and attempt to put a label on her feelings right now. "Yesterday in the cafeteria," she answers simply, causing Quinn to tense up since she had a feeling that was at least part of the reason.

"Did he tell you what happened?" The shorter girl wonders carefully.

"He said he told her to apologize to me and then she threatened him because of it," Brittany shakes her head in disbelief.

"That's it?" Quinn scoffs, not buying it for a second.

Brittany shakes her head. "He also told me that Santana was trying to mess with my mind and that he called her out on it…" she trails off and her brows furrow pensively.

"Britt?" Quinn prompts her friend after a moment too long of silence, lightly touching her elbow to gain her attention.

Turning back to the other blonde, Brittany's eyes have dulled from their usual vibrant blue to a stormy gray. "I kinda think he said some stuff to make her feel bad about herself," she whispers before shaking her head. "I _**knew**_ I should've stopped him from going to the Cheerio table."

"Why _**didn't**_ you?" Quinn asks gently after a moment, trying to keep her tone from sounding accusatory.

Brittany plucks at a loose thread on the hem of her sleep shirt for a moment. "I couldn't. It was like I was watching a movie or something and I just…froze," she sighs, scrunching her brows together as she struggles to verbalize her thoughts properly. "I was still kinda mad at Artie and I just…I don't even _**know**_ where I stand with Santana anymore. So, I think I couldn't get up because I didn't know _**who**_ I'd be getting up to try and protect," she finally manages to get out.

Quinn nods in understanding, having her own experience with being torn between two people, though probably not to the same degree as the girl beside her. "Santana," she says under her breath before turning to see her friend's confused expression and clearing her throat. "You would've sided with Santana," she clarifies confidently.

"Yeah," Brittany nods in a way that suggests that, looking back on it, she knows that's exactly what she would've done. "That's why I blew off Artie tonight to go to the party. I knew Santana would be there and I wanted to talk to her and try and make her feel better after he said whatever he did," she explains.

"Why didn't you just go over there or call or-"

"She ignores all my calls and…when I drove by her house there was an SUV parked outside that I'd never seen before…I'm pretty sure it was Dave's," she shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Wow, so are you trying to go full-on stalker now or what?" Quinn chuckles at the other girl's blush before something about what she said hits her. "Since when do you call him '_**Dave**_'?" She asks, sneering the other boy's name like a curse word.

"That's what Santana calls him," Brittany answers simply.

"Oh," Quinn breathes out after a moment, understanding that she does it out of respect for Santana more so than respect for the other boy. "It's getting late," she notes after several moments, her gaze happening to settle on the digital clock by the bed that reads 10:30 pm.

"Yeah…and we have to meet Mr. Schue and everyone at the school early," Brittany agrees, glad that the conversation is over and that she'd been able to get a lot off her chest. "Goodnight Quinn," she says, leaning over to turn off her light.

"Night Britt," the other blonde replies as she tries to get comfortable. A few moments pass with the only sound being that of their breathing.

"Quinn?" Brittany ventures, earning a hum in acknowledgement. "Thanks for being there for me tonight and for listening. You're a good friend," she tells the other blonde, unable to really put into words how much she appreciates her.

Quinn is quiet for a moment. "You're welcome Brittany," she eventually answers, at a loss for words herself at the unexpected gratitude, her eyes tearing up a little.

After such an eventful evening, the two drift off to sleep easily despite their nerves over the competition in the morning.

* * *

**An Hour Later**

"Hold still D," Santana giggles as she tightens her grip around the ankle of the foot perched on her lap.

"Mmm, these are the best things ever," David moans obliviously, a blissed-out smile on his face.

"You best not be eatin' all my 'Stix," the Latina warns dangerously. At his frightened, wide-eyed stare she can't help but laugh at the other boy. "Kidding! Calm yourself Karofsky," she smirks.

Dave can't help but join in on her amusement before turning his attention to the cheerleader's current task. "I thought you said you were doing a clear coat," he blurts out in an accusing tone.

"I _**am**_. I did the color _**first**_ and _**now**_ I'm doing the clear coat. Duh," she rolls her eyes in response. "Now stop moving. I'm almost…_**done**_!" She announces proudly as she twists the top of the clear nail coat back on.

"It looks so…glossy," the jock describes the current state of his toenails.

"You're _**so**_ gay," Santana giggles as his choice of adjective. He ignores her…or maybe he just genuinely doesn't hear her.

"What color is that anyways?" Dave wonders curiously.

"Coral Pink," the Latina reads off the sticker on the top of the bottle of nail polish. "It's close enough to your skin color that it's hardly even noticeable," she smirks.

"I'm not going to be walking around barefoot around my parents, or _**anyone**_, any time soon to test that theory," David replies wryly, earning a laugh in response. "I can't believe I let you talk me into letting you paint my toenails," he shakes his head incredulously.

"You _**loved**_ it. It made you feel special…like a pretty, pretty princess," Santana says this last part in a baby voice as she leans over to pinch her beard's right cheek before they both erupt into a fit of laughter.

"Whatever you say. You don't hear me inviting you out to play in a scrimmage with the rest of the football or hockey teams-"

"That would, like, seriously conflict with my Cheerios practice schedule," she deadpans and Dave smirks but doesn't otherwise acknowledge her interruption.

"And I don't go around assuming that you like to throw on your favorite flannel shirt and go chop wood in your spare time or work on car engines or pump iron at the gym-"

"As a Cheerio, I spend plenty of time in the gym," Santana corrects him…and he looks less than impressed. "Did you have a point?" She sighs.

"All I'm saying is that I don't assume every lesbian stereotype applies to you so I'd kinda appreciate it if you didn't assume every gay stereotype is true about me," he shrugs self-consciously to make it seem like he really doesn't take anything she says to heart as much as he does.

"Oh please. Of course I don't. It's just fun to mess with you about it. Obviously you aren't a big queer stereotype. So chill out and stop being so sensitive before I decide to start calling you, like, Daisy. For reals," she arches an eyebrow at the other boy, amused by his behavior.

"You call me Daisy and I'll call you…um…whatever the male equivalent of that is," David counters weakly.

Santana narrows her eyes at him for a moment before softening her expression and sighing. "Imma let you in on a little secret. 'Santana' _**is**_ a boy's name and it's not, like, the feminine version of my father's name that people like Mr. Schuester or whoever likes to think," she admits.

"Why'd your parents do that?" The other boy scrunches up his brows as he reaches for another breadstick.

"You best be backin' up off my 'Stix," Santana warns as she smacks his hand away from the takeout bag only to turn serious and introspective once more just as quickly. "My father wanted a son and I was going to be named after him, Santiago Jr...or something, I guess," she shrugs one shoulder, idly chewing on the end of a breadstick. "They got it half right though: a girl that likes girls," she adds with a smirk.

"Huh," David grunts thoughtfully, not sure what to make of this new information.

"So, did we want to see what's on my DVR or not?" She asks with a smile, hoping to ease the tension and take her mind off the threat of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

"Uh, yeah…as long as it's not a bunch of, like, _Project Runway_ reruns from the Oxygen network or any of that other fashion crap from Bravo," he scrunches up his expression in distaste.

"What_**ever **_Daisy. How do you even know what channel plays reruns of _Project Runway_ anyways?" She challenges with a laugh.

"Just…shut up," he grumbles which only increases the volume of her amusement. He can't help but smile back at her, glad that she seems to be feeling better than she was only a few moments ago. "Want something to drink?" He asks, getting up to go to the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure," she replies nonchalantly as she reaches for the remote.

"What do you want? Coke, water, juice-"

"Water's fine," Santana cuts him off, earning an unseen eye roll from him as he has his head buried in the refrigerator. "And I'm sure I have some of Sue's Master Cleanse in there so feel free to help yourself. I know how much you liked it last time," she chuckles.

"Funny," he smirks. "Is Coke Zero seriously the only soda you have?" He whines, begrudgingly grabbing the carton of orange juice before going to get a glass from the cabinet.

"No sugar and zero calories and it _**still**_ tastes almost exactly like regular Coke…damn _**right**_ it's the only soda in there," she defends herself as she briefly scrolls down the on-screen menu of the shows currently playing.

"Whatever, I prefer Pepsi anyways," David mumbles as he reenters the living room with his orange juice and her bottle of water.

"Yeah, well, Pepsi can suck it," the small brunette growls viciously as she twists the cap off her water.

"Settle down Cujo before you start foaming at the mouth," the other boy laughs as he playfully pats her on the head.

With an eye roll she pushes his hand off her head and hands him the remote. "Here _**you**_ find something…and don't worry, it's not all gay talk shows off Logo or anything," she smirks.

"Why don't you find something?" He asks as he pulls up the saved DVR recordings anyways.

"Because I can feel my buzz wearing off so that means it's time to set up the apple bong again," Santana explains with a grin as she slides down from the couch so she's sitting on the floor at a more comfortable level with the already-been-used hollowed out apple, the pot and her lighter.

"Okay," David replies, trying to sound indifferent despite being excited to go again. "When did you even get…marijuana?" He questions, lowering his voice and hesitating on referring to it by any of its common slang terms.

"Jesus, you totally just sounded like Rachel Fuckin' Berry there for a second," she snorts in amusement. "And I got it after Cheerios practice from Sandy Ryerson under the bleachers by the football field when I was putting up the equipment. _**That's**_ why I didn't have time to take a shower before we left," she informs him easily as she finishes prepping the apple bong. "Ready?" She asks as she hands it to David and slides back up to the couch.

"Yeah," he nods, setting down the remote and bringing the apple to his mouth. He inhales slowly as she lights her lighter for him. When he can't hold anymore smoke in his mouth, he waves his hand that's not holding the apple at her.

Santana takes the apple and watches him carefully as he holds it in for a few moments like she told him last time. Then he starts coughing uncontrollably, his face turning beet red and she laughs hard at him. "Much better than last time," she compliments before taking her turn. It goes infinitely smoother for her.

"Show off," he grumbles jokingly.

"Jealous," she retorts as she sets it back down on the table and moves closer to the other boy, laying her head on his shoulder and an arm across his stomach. "You're like a big, squishy teddy bear," she giggles.

"Am not," he argues with a decidedly unintimidating glare.

"No, you're a big, butch, masculine manly man," Santana humors him as she snuggles closer. "Find anything to watch yet?" She wonders, turning her head to face the television once more.

"Well, I was looking and I saw something that definitely gives away how big of a nerd you are," he says with a grin slowly taking over his features.

"What?" She asks, confused by what he's talking about, squinting her eyes to try and read what the screen says.

"_The Smarty Pants Show_? Really Santana?" David chokes back his laughter.

"Oh, crap," Santana 's eyes widen in panicked realization.

"I didn't believe you could be such a geek until now," he chuckles before selecting it.

"_**Don't**_!" Santana barks out as she tries, unsuccessfully, to retrieve the remote from him, her face burning with embarrassment (and a little bit of dread).

"I'm only taking notice of my girlfriend's varied interests and showing a desire to learn more about them in an effort to share in them with her. I think that's important for any healthy relationship…wouldn't you agree?" The jock teases her playfully.

"Shut up," she snaps angrily before deflating moments later when the names of the two competing schools on the show are announced.

"Santana," David softly says her name a moment after seeing Brittany on the television screen with the rest of McKinley's 'Brainiacs'.

"I don't want to hear it David," she growls, her arms folded across her chest, a petulant scowl fixed on her face.

"Your DVR history says you've seen this episode 12 times already and it only aired a few days ago," he points out sympathetically.

"I _**know**_," Santana insists, her façade crumbling easily thanks to the alcohol and pot in her system.

Knowing that there's really nothing he can say that would be any help, Dave simply pulls the other girl to him. After briefly resisting, Santana gives in to the embrace and hugs him back.

"Why aren't you on the team?" David asks as he fast forwards through the commercials, earning an eye roll from the other girl. "Seriously, I think you could seriously give Abrams a run for his money on there," he insists.

"I have just fully recovered my status on the top of the food chain and I am not about to take another hit to my popularity by joining the academic decathlon team. Glee club was a big enough blemish on my record and now that I'm done with those freaks, I'm more popular than ever," she explains to him, the bitchy tone she usually reserves for when she's at school seeping back into her voice.

Dave cringes as he listens to her, but he knows better than to try and reason with the stubborn Latina right now. He settles on a topic a little more 'safe' than all of the things he _**really**_ wants to bring up with her.

"I never would've pictured you to be so good with kids," he mentions, referring to how well the Head Cheerio interacted with his little sister.

"Brittany has a little sister about Katie's age, fourth grade, right?" Santana asks sleepily as she sinks further into the jock.

"That's right…What's her name?" David asks, intrigued by this new bit of information.

"Emily," the Latina smiles fondly. "She plays soccer and likes whatever music her big sister is into in any given week. She's the one that's into ducks, _**not**_ Brittany. _**Emily**_ put all those duck stickers on Britt's binder," she continues with a yawn.

"What's Brittany's favorite?"

"Obviously she loves cats and unicorns," Santana scoffs and rolls her eyes in amusement. "But she thinks the platypus is the most adorable thing ever even though I'm pretty sure that it's actually the result of Nature being all like 'Fuck it' and using up all the spare parts it had sitting on the cutting room floor," she babbles.

"A platypus? Really?" David furrows his brows, not sure what to make of this new bit of information.

"Mmhmm," the Latina hums, her eyes closing. "A baby platypus is called a 'puggle'. That is, like, the cutest word in the English language…and it's so fun to say," she murmurs.

"Puggle," a very stoned David Karofsky says slowly to himself, a smile gradually settling on his features. "_**Pu**_ggle. Pu_**ggle**_. Puuuuuuuggle," he repeats using different emphases and drawing it out, his grin widening with each repetition.

"Such a fun word," Santana barely manages to slur out through her drug-induced fatigue.

"It is," Dave agrees before letting his head rest on top of Santana's which is sitting on his shoulder. "You know, you're not nearly as horrible as everyone thinks you are…or as _**you**_ think you are either. I kinda wish we'd gotten to know each other a lot sooner than this because I never knew I needed a friend like you until you were here. And, don't be mad, but I think maybe you needed a real friend too…one that you _**weren't**_ sleeping with," he amends his last point with a smirk. "This may be the drugs and beer and breadsticks talking, but being with you kinda makes me wish we were both straight. Is that weird?" He wonders hesitantly after a moment.

Silence greets the jock. The only sounds in the room being the steady breaths from the figure curled up against him and the television playing quietly in the background, a smiling Brittany on the screen eating candy and answering questions about cat diseases.

"Santana?" Dave asks quietly after a moment as he tilts his head down to confirm that the other girl is asleep. He smiles sadly at the cheerleader with her brows furrowed, indicating that she's just as troubled in her sleep as she is when she's awake. "Good night," he whispers, mostly to himself, as he places a friendly kiss on her forehead before reaching over to turn off the light on the end table beside him and switching off the television.

With the room bathed in darkness, the Latina blinks open her eyes and mulls over the other boy's words, his sincerity punctuated as he tightens his grip on her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. As strange as it may be, the last time she felt like anyone cared like this was when it was Brittany's arms that were wrapped around her back before the whole 'Duet Debacle'. This isn't nearly the same and she doesn't feel it quite as much as when it was the blonde dancer, but this is certainly more than she feels like she deserves. Closing her eyes once again, she settles into the other boy and tries to get some sleep.

* * *

First off, I don't think I ever made it clear that this is not meant to be Santana's "coming out story" because it wouldn't really work considering she's much further in denial and in the closet in this story than on the show. This is more about her accepting who she is and her feelings for Brittany.

Now, the reasons for having so much of this stuff being devoted to establishing the Santana/Dave friendship is to establish their friendship so it doesn't feel like their closeness is coming out of nowhere later on down the line. Also, while this story has a Santana/Brittany endgame planned out, Santana needs to do a lot of growing (emotionally) to get there and she can't do that without having people help push her along. Dave, Sue and Brad (to a lesser degree) are the three main characters that help her right now in this story. Be patient and there will be some pretty worthwhile Santana/Britt scenes to come…and the development of a surprising friendship.

Next chapter will have stuff from _Night of Neglect_ in it. Also, there will be the return of Brad and another Santana/Sue scene that will be quite eventful for many reasons. The Prom and Bully Whips will also start becoming an actual part of the story now.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 10 January 2012


	8. The Manchurian Prom Queen

**A/N**: Yes, this is kind of short compared to previous chapters, but I think the content will make up for it. Also, I know I said that I'd stop focusing so much on David and Santana's friendship after the last chapter. I should've been more clear because it will still be included, but not the sole focus of any more chapters like these last two.

**Spoilers**: Some _Night of Neglect_ and minor _Born This Way_

**Warnings**: Minor language, slushies, Sue's insanity

* * *

**Chapter Eight: The Manchurian Prom Queen**

**Monday Morning**

Santana has been on a rampage since the moment she woke up this morning. The early morning Cheerios practice did little to brighten her mood. She used up the one slushy Sue allotted to her for the whole week before the warning bell even went off before first period. If not for David Karofsky, of all people, being there to reign in her temper, she doesn't doubt that there would have been serious casualties…or bloodshed, at the very least. So, she made the executive decision to skip her second period class in favor of taking a smoke break in her usual spot…for the good of the school, of course.

This is how she finds herself sitting one step up from Brad just outside the East Wing door, casually smoking a cigarette and watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky.

"Glee Club this morning was…eventful," the pianist breaks the silence as he stubs out the butt of his cigarette. Those are the first words either of them has spoken in the twenty minutes since they've been out there.

"Oh?" An intrigued Santana arches an eyebrow.

"Schuester is convinced that selling 20,000 pieces of salt water taffy will fund their trip to New York _**and**_ get The Brainiacs to their own National Championship," he informs the cheerleader, not bothering to turn and face her.

"Please," Santana scoffs. "What makes him think those losers can sell 20,000 _**anythings**_?" She asks rhetorically, sensing the older man's smirk without needing to see it.

"And the Evil Nazi Werewolf Cheerleader from Pluto has officially announced she and Frankenteen are running for Prom King and Queen," he adds after a moment.

The Latina rolls her eyes as she puts out her own cigarette, playfully shoving him as she moves down a step so she is sitting next to him. "First off, it was '_Evil __**Vampire**__ Nazi Cheerleaders from __**Mars**_'," she corrects him with a grin. "Second, that is _**so**_ the last time I ever recommend a classic grindhouse B-movie to you again if you're only going to joke."

"Oh, come on. The acting alone made it worth the watch…and the dialogue was just a bonus," Brad chuckles before adopting a serious expression and clearing his throat. "'But 'Dolf, they're _**soo**_ much harder to suck dry if they're dead. Can't you let us put our lips on something _**hot**_ for a change?'" He quotes the film with a horrible impersonation of a woman's voice.

"Oh _**hells**_ no! I can't believe you actually _**memorized**_ that part," Santana laughs incredulously.

"Absolutely," the smirking man replies.

After Santana's laughter fades into a small smile and they settle into a comfortable silence, she turns to the other man. "I know Quinn's running for Prom Queen. I saw those cheesy posters of her and _**Finn**_competent up in the halls this morning," she informs him and Brad nods in acknowledgement.

"'Finncompetent'? I like that one," he chuckles.

Santana bites her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I'm going to come out to Sue today, I think," she admits self-consciously.

"Good," he encourages in his usual understated way.

The pair remains silent for several moments. "Can I borrow your sharpie so I can deface the poster Quinn put up by the Cheerios' trophy case in the main hall?" She asks him innocently.

With a laugh, he pulls a permanent marker out of the front pocket of his shirt and hands it to her with an amused shake of his head. "Enjoy," he smirks as she gets up and heads to the door with a renewed bounce in her step, pausing once she has a hand on the door handle.

"I think you'd love _Lockdown in the Bad Girls Women's Prison_," she suggests after a moment of thought.

"Isn't 'girl' and 'woman' redundant?" He asks with furrowed brows.

"That's _**rii**_-iight," the Latina sing-songs. "Classic 1976 B-movie. No nudity despite what the title implies, but check it out. The dialogue is spectacularly atrocious," she explains her recommendation with a laugh before going back inside the building. Brad simply shakes his head idly in amusement before deciding that it wouldn't hurt for him to be ready for his next class a little early for once and heading in himself.

* * *

**Lunch**

It's eerily quiet and still in the main hall of the school. With the majority of the school either outside in the courtyard or crammed into the cafeteria, the corridor is completely vacant…save for one person.

Santana is concentrating hard as she modifies Quinn Fabray's campaign poster to vote her and Finn Prom Queen and King, respectively. Having already given the blonde demon eyes by blacking out her usually hazel ones, given her devil horns ('_Her __**real**__ ones were almost visible anyways_ ', Santana justifies to herself), a Hitler mustache and bat wings stretched out from behind her with the words "I'm a bitch" hovering over her head in a thought-bubble, Quinn's 'makeover' was complete. All that's left is to finish up improving Finn's image and the Latina can call it a day. Really, the boy is ridiculous-looking enough as it is so she really didn't have much to add. His thought-bubble simple read "duh" over his altered picture featuring giant obnoxious glasses over crossed eyes and buckteeth. At the last minute, she decided to 'finish' off his unaltered, preexisting man-boobs by drawing on nipples. The tip of the sharpie is firmly pressed down as she makes the point in the center of the last nipple.

"_**Santana**_!" A voice barks sharply from behind the teen, startling her and causing the marker to drag down the poster and, briefly, on the wall. The Latina spins around quickly, unsuccessfully trying to hide the marker behind her back before the other woman sees it. Sue peeks around the brunette who is attempting to block her view of the poster, briefly arching a questioning brow at the girl. "My office. Now," she orders a moment later.

"Yes Coach," Santana replies obediently before heaving a sigh and glancing at her ruined piece of art. "Great, now it looks like he's lactating," she grumbles to herself, rolling her eyes. She turns swiftly on her heel to follow the Cheerio coach to her regular office just across the hall, this one actually accessible to _**non**_-Cheerios unlike the one inside the Cheerio locker room.

Actually, Sue Sylvester's real office _**used to be**_ one of the average crappy faculty offices but after the Vice-Principal 'disappeared' halfway through Santana's Freshman year, her coach decided to claim his office as her own. According to Sue, he had been taken from his home by members of the Norwegian Mafia for debts unpaid and hasn't been seen since. Santana _**really**_ doesn't want to know what happened or what the older woman's role was. All the Latina knows is that Figgins never bothered to fund getting another Vice-Principal for the school because Sue is blackmailing him…or he's just too cheap…or both.

"Have a seat," the coach instructs as she slams the door closed behind her head Cheerio.

"Look, Coach, that wasn't what-"

"Save it Third World. I don't care about you vandalizing the poster currently defiling the space around my precious trophies. As far as I'm concerned, you were performing a public service by scribbling your people's cave drawings over it," she brushes off the other girl's concerns.

"Okay," Santana says, scrunching up her brows in confusion as she wonders why she's here.

"Seeing that traitor's face plastered all over the halls of this hallowed institution reminded me of a little story about someone else that betrayed his team that he'd sworn to be loyal to. He tried to tear them down and destroy everything that they held sacred. Who was this defector, this turncoat you ask?" Sue pauses expectantly.

"Who was this defector, this turncoat?" Santana drawls unenthusiastically, at least having the decency to not roll her eyes.

"That man was Benedict Arnold and the team he double-crossed was a little team called _**America**_. Thankfully my parents, who, as you know, are famous Nazi hunters, were able to track him down and bring him to justice after he successfully assassinated President H. Ross Perot and Martin Luther King, Jr. back in the 80s," Sue enlightens the other girl.

Santana gives the coach her patented 'what the fuck' look that she usually reserves for whenever Sue decides to give one of her warped history lessons. "Martin Luther King, Jr. in the 80s?" She addresses first.

"Don't look so surprised at that my little Mexican Jumping Bean; I support gay rights," the older woman defends herself…albeit inaccurately.

"Ross Perot was never president…and I think he's still alive. Besides, Benedict Arnold died before any of these people were even _**born**_," Santana pushes.

"You need to do less arguing because you're only revealing how much the educational system has failed you," Sylvester sighs in dismay, holding up a finger to silence the Latina when she opens her mouth to argue. "Now, as I was saying, Quinn Fabray, aka the Benedict Arnold of McKinley's Cheerios, is running pretty much uncontested. If she won, this would be the first year that a Cheerio didn't win Prom Queen in the history of me coaching the squad," she states gravely.

"Isn't Haley Landers running too?" She points out, remembering the other girl blathering on about it last week and Sue gives her a confused look. "Third from the left, second tier from the bottom of the pyramid," she rolls her eyes in explanation.

"Oh, I don't bother learning the names of anyone that isn't on one of the top three levels so this Holly Sanders girl doesn't exist and therefore doesn't count," she brushes her off.

"What about Becky? I'm sure she'd be happy to run," Santana tries again, ignoring that she got the other girl's name completely wrong.

"Wrong again! She and her boyfriend just started dating and she doesn't want to put him under the kind of pressure that would inevitably come with dating the reigning Prom Queen. She thinks it's too risky. I think this easily counts as being one of your duties as 'Head Cheerleader' in the contract we both signed and agreed on," Sue redirects, an evil smirk taking over her features.

"Think again. There's nothing in there about forcing me to run for queen…or blackmail a jock into being my boyfriend," Santana argues.

"Au contraire oh Flat-Chested One," the older woman grins as she conveniently whips out a signed copy of the contract. "Section Three, Article Four," she instructs as the girl flips to the proper page.

Santana skims through the first line, her eyes widening in realization. "'…I agree to follow the whims of one Sue Sylvester under the condition that it does not violate any provisions hitherto established or proviso yet to be determined henceforth…'," she trails off.

"It always helps to read the fine print and carefully read over any changes made before you sign something Lopez," Sue grins victoriously.

"Coach…" she breathes out, shaking her head as she can't even think of anything to say.

"Buck up S," Coach offers lightly. "You should be thanking me for I am teaching you valuable life lessons that you just can't learn from a book. Manipulation, blackmail, underhanded compliments, slick wording that allows for an infinite number of loopholes that work only in your favor? I hope you've been taking notes," she says before snatching the contract out of the girl's hands.

"I don't have time to run a campaign for this Sue. You have me and Dave starting the Bully Whips at the end of the week and we've been practicing almost constantly for Nationals next month on top of being loaded up with all AP coursework," Santana lists off, feeling exhausted just thinking about it.

"I am perfectly aware of how ill-equipped you are to properly manage your time and motivate yourself well enough to get everything done on your own. Taking your inadequacies into consideration, I have already enlisted the other Cheerios into running your campaign for you and they are working on your posters and such as we speak. Stretchmarks von Babyweight won't know what hit her," Sue grins, resisting the urge to cackle maniacally.

"Look Coach, I really don't think it's a good idea for me and Karofsky to run for Prom King and Queen," Santana informs the older woman, trying to keep her nerves in check.

"He isn't flaming enough for any of these backwater hicks to be able to tell he's a raging homo so you shouldn't be concerned about losing votes and I doubt he'll mind continuing to play it straight anyways as long as you make it clear you have no problem dating a gay football player," Sue brushes off what she assumes to be the problem.

"That's not it," Santana replies softly, vaguely aware that she may be about to make a very big mistake and she surreptitiously wipes her sweaty palms on seat of her chair before meeting her cheerleading coach's scrutinizing eyes. "I don't care that David is gay be-because I…I'm gay too," she staggers through the admission tightly gripping the sides of her chair and immediately clenching her eyes shut to avoid the predictable look of distain, disgust and disappointment that is sure to be present on the other woman's face.

"Is that it?" Sue asks calmly after a moment too long of silence.

"Wha…yeah…Huh?" Santana flounders. "Aren't you, like, mad or something?" She questions the coach, baffled by her non-reaction.

"Why would I be?" Is the surprisingly reasonable reply.

Santana is caught a little off-guard by the question. "I don't know. I just figured…" she shakes her head to clear her jumbled thoughts.

"Look, Ellen…" Coach Sylvester begins, leaning forward in her chair and clasping her hands together on top of her desk, "…I've voiced my suspicions of you having lesbiatronic tendencies to you before so this isn't exactly a shock. It's more like proof that I was right all along," she explains.

"But you referred to those tendencies as 'dark and disturbing'," Santana points out as justification of her own concerns, ignoring that the other woman is using her own made up words again.

"They _**are**_ dark and disturbing when the girl you decide to have your angsty teen 'girly' feelings for is _**Brittany Pierce**_, of all people," Sue nearly hisses the blonde's name like a curse word.

"There's nothing wrong with Brittany," the Latina bristles at the underhanded insult.

"If there's nothing wrong with her, then why is she still trolling around with that lazy kid in the wheelchair instead of shacking up with a certain green card applicant we both know?" The older woman questions rhetorically.

Santana sits there stunned for a moment because, hidden under the layers of insults, that last comment sounded almost like a veiled compliment. It sounded like Sue was implying that there must be something wrong with the blonde dancer if she chose Artie over her. She quickly regains her composure, deciding not to mention it for both of their sakes.

Sue scrutinizes the girl sitting before her for several moments. "I don't know if you're planning on prancing through the halls, waving a rainbow flag and announcing that you _**are**_ here and you _**are**_, in fact, queer. I don't even _**care**_…as long as you wait until after Nationals. That'll give us a whole year for the scandal to die down," she tells the girl in no uncertain terms.

"So, you're not kicking me off the squad...right?" Santana asks uncertainly, her insecurity seeping into her tone.

"I may be a lot of things Lopez, but stupid isn't one of them. If I get rid of you, who am I going to put in charge of the squad? Stacy? Bethany? Danielle? My shoe size is higher than their combined IQ," the older woman scoffs and Santana can't help the smirk that crosses over her lips. "And it's not like I'm about to demote you to the bottom of the pyramid again because it's not much of a punishment to give you the opportunity to look up all of those girls' skirts," she adds.

At this the Latina rolls her eyes. "So, what now? Are you going to tell the squad or lay down new locker room rules or something?" She questions, expecting a list of humiliating restrictions.

"No need. In case you haven't noticed, you have yet to be in the locker room at the same time as the other girls. Why do you think I have you put up the equipment after you all run laps or dismiss you while _**they**_ do laps? Additionally, you're the smallest girl on the squad as well as the captain so you're a flyer and at the top of the pyramid so there's no threat of you sneaking a peek or copping a feel," Sue points out.

"I didn't think about that," the Latina murmurs under her breath as she thinks back on the last several weeks and how, not once, was she changing in the locker room at the same time as anyone else. "And room assignments for State?" She questions, already knowing the answer.

"I roomed you with a flamingly gay male Cheerio for a reason," the coach shrugs nonchalantly. "As long as you keep your mouth shut about your Sapphic preferences you don't have to worry about me spreading the word," she assures the other girl.

"Fair enough," Santana nods, relieved. She feels as though a massive weight has been taken off her shoulders. "And Prom Queen…?" She prompts, hoping her confession will get her off the hook for running.

"Yeah…That's still happening," Sue dryly intones before turning her attention to a paper in front of her on her desk. "Name a deceptively vicious creature," she randomly orders the Latina.

The brunette furrows her brows in confusion before deciding to humor the other woman and wracking her brain. "Honey badger," she says after a moment of internal deliberation, earning a strange look in response. "Google it," she defends her selection nonchalantly. "Why?" She suspiciously asks.

"No reason," Sue deflects. "Still no interest in helping take down the glee club?" She questions, her tone giving nothing away.

"None. I want nothing to do with them. You can't force me to do anything either because I made certain that that clause in our contract was ironclad," she points out defensively.

"Such a waste," Coach Sylvester shakes her head regretfully as she scratches through the Latina's name between Dustin "Sergeant Handsome" Goolsby and Sandy "Pink Dagger" Ryerson on the paper in front of her under the heading 'League of Doom'. She scribbles "Honey Badger" down next to Terri Schuester's name with a question mark beside it.

"Are we done now?" Santana wonders cautiously upon noticing the familiar demented look in the other woman's eyes.

"One more thing," Sue says as she looks up at her head Cheerio. "In regards to Subplot 1: The Bully Whip Project and Subplot 2: The Manchurian Prom Queen, I've decided that to add credibility to the Bully Whips and get valuable Prom Queen votes the best course of action would be to get that gay kid to agree to transfer back," she informs the other girl. "It will convince skeptics that you've changed and get inferior students to think you are on the side of the underdogs," she grins at the brilliance of her scheme.

"And if I _**still**_ don't win?" Santana challenges with an arched eyebrow.

"Subplot 2b: Operation Carrie's Revenge is in place as retaliation in the event that you fail," Sue answers simply.

"Tell me this doesn't involve pig's blood," the wary cheerleader sighs.

"Of course not, the nearest pig farm is 200 miles from here. Cattle will be a suitable replacement and there's a slaughterhouse in the next town over," she replies darkly before taking in the uneasy look on Santana's face. "Don't worry, Subplot 2b doesn't call for your involvement at all…I have the JV squad on it," she assures her.

"I feel _**so**_ much better," Santana deadpans, feeling sick.

Sue ignores her Cheerio Captain's tone as she goes over her 'To Do' list. "Dismissed. We'll discuss my plans for luring the token flamboyant gay kid back to McKinley another time," she waves off the teen.

"Yeah," the dazed Latina says before getting up and exiting the coach's office, not sure if all of that really happened. As glad as she is to have come out to the terrifying woman, she's still stuck entering the stupid race for prom queen and the added pressure of knowing that, if anyone wins that isn't her, they might very likely end up bathing in beef blood.

* * *

**Ten Minutes Later**

"You were missed in the cafeteria," comes a voice on the other side of Santana's locker door.

The Latina rolls her eyes and scoffs as she shuts her locker. "And by _**whom**_ was I missed, David?" She challenges skeptically, an eyebrow raised as if daring him to lie to her.

"By me," the jock shrugs self-consciously, trying not to wince at the formal way she worded her question.

Santana breathes out a sigh, her confident façade slipping away slightly. "Sue has us running for Prom King and Queen to make sure Quinn and Finn don't get it," she comes right out and tells him.

"You're kidding," he says in hopes that the other girl is just messing with him.

"I wish. She has the Cheerios in charge of running our campaign for us so we at least don't have to do anything," Santana gives him that small piece of good news…but he isn't impressed. "I wish I hadn't wasted this week's slushy-facial first thing this morning and waited until _**after**_ I spoke with Sue instead," she admits as they start making their way to the main hallway.

"You want me to slushy someone on your behalf?" Dave offers sincerely.

Santana can't help but smile at the gesture. "I think about it," she chuckles.

"Maybe I can ambush Finn and Quinn. I can cover them both and it'll be like killing two birds with one stone. Then I can throw out some witty one-liner about how they don't stand a chance against us for king and queen. It'll be epic," he verbalizes his plotting.

"As much as I'd like to say yes to that, I doubt it'll help us win any votes," she grins as they make their way down the hall, plenty of time to spare before the bell rings to signal the end of lunch.

Dave watches Santana as they approach the choir room, a chatting Brittany and Artie are visible from this angle in the front row. He takes note of the brief flash of hurt on his girlfriend's face before she schools her expression back to her usual scowl. "I'll slushy her for you," he quietly whispers in her ear as they're about to pass the door to the room.

The Latina smiles softly at his way of trying to look out for her before her eyes flit over towards the dancer against her will. She briefly makes eye contact with the blonde that broke her heart, gaining a small amount of smug satisfaction from the jealous flicker behind those blue eyes. That look of jealousy is just as quickly replaced with one of sadness and something akin to pity for Santana for feeling like she has hide who she really is behind an imposing jock boyfriend and her promiscuous reputation.

"Don't. Just ignore her," Santana mumbles to the other boy. One of her usual sycophantic Cheerio underlings waves cautiously at her as they pass by and, as the brunette offers a simple nod of acknowledgement in return, her eyes light up with sinister glee. "Just because _**we**_ can't slushy _**Quinn**_ferior and _**Finn**_adequate doesn't mean we can't have it done for us. _**Our**_ hands stay clean and _**they**_ get covered in corn syrup, ice and food coloring," she suggests mischievously.

"Sounds like a plan," David can't help but get sucked into the idea by her enthusiasm.

"How long do we have until the bell rings?" She asks as she begins dragging him towards the cafeteria.

"Like eight minutes," he replies, wondering what she's up to.

"We can time this just right," she nods to herself with determination.

* * *

**7.5 Minutes Later**

Santana and Dave are making their way down the hall, a gaggle of Cheerios and their jock boyfriends with them. While it isn't uncommon for the Cheerios to leave the cafeteria together or to follow the squad captain down the hall, having Santana miss lunch only to appear seemingly for the _**sole**_ purpose of gathering the squad has many students on edge. As the group rounds the corner to the hallway where the choir room is located, the bell rings to signal the end of the lunch period. Internally, Santana beams with pride over her perfect timing.

The choir room door opens and the glee kids begin to filter into the hallway just as David and Santana pass by, the Latina catching Quinn's eye and arching an eyebrow at her, a sly smirk teasing her lips.

"Look guys, it's the Nerd Herd," the Head Cheerio announces to her followers, much to their amusement.

Quinn, for her part, furrows her brows in confusion at the brunette, unconsciously gripping her boyfriend's hand tighter, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. Finn turns to his girlfriend, concern written all over his features. "What's wro-"

His question is cut off when the couple find themselves under an impromptu shower of crushed ice and 'blue raspberry'-flavored blue corn syrup. "Good luck winning Prom King and Queen," one of the slushy-throwing Cheerios taunts the pair, earning a round of laughter from the rest of the group…as well as several bystanders in the hall.

"Lopez!" An embarrassed Quinn barks at the retreating cheerleader.

"There a problem _**Quinn**_dignant?" Santana questions blithely.

"You just slushied us!" Finn answers for his girlfriend in an obvious tone.

"He sounds really _**Finn**_credulous, doesn't he?" David questions rhetorically, trying not to laugh. His efforts made all the more difficult by the chuckling around him.

Santana briefly smirks at her boyfriend before turning back to the irate couple and the stunned members of New Directions around them. "I wouldn't go throwing around accusations like that if I were you. I didn't throw anything at anyone nor did I speak to any of you. As a matter of fact, _**you**_ were the one that tried to antagonize _**me**_," she points out, an eyebrow arched as though daring anyone to disagree.

"It's true," one of her minions nods earnestly in agreement.

"So, before you even ask, yes, I accept your apologies," the Latina smirks in a feigned-humble tone, holding eye contact for eight seconds before turning and flouncing away with her boyfriend and cronies obediently in tow.

"I…don't…understand," Finn says slowly, still trying to process what just happened.

Everyone shares an exasperated look. "Dude…let's get you cleaned up," Puck shakes his head at his friend before leading him away towards the guys' locker room.

"Come on Quinn," Brittany quietly speaks up, briefly casting a longing look down the hallway where Santana disappeared.

* * *

Yes, Santana underhandedly slushied Finn and Quinn to assert her Alpha Female status for the Prom Queen race. Oh, and also, Santana totally came out to Sue…and it was _**fine**_! I've alluded to Sue already knowing or at least having her suspicions, but I think Sue is an important ally for Santana to have…as well as Brad. Also, no, none of those movies discussed in the beginning of the chapter are real, to my knowledge at least. I had a lot of fun coming up with ways to mock Finn and Quinn's names. Also, everything about the conversation between Sue and Santana was fun to write…including the "Operation"/"Subplot" names.

Next chapter: Brittany's family, more Brad, Bully Whips and Kurt and Blaine.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 14 January 2012


	9. Ad Nauseum

**A/N**: This chapter feels a little short to me somehow, but there is a lot that happens in it. We get to see inside Santana's head quite a bit in this one (and Dave's a little too).

**A/N2**: A couple events in this chapter take place a little out of order from on the show. A scene from _BTW_ happens before a scene from NON

**Spoilers**: _Night of Neglect_ and _Born This Way_

**Warnings**: Language, angst, hints at eating disorder…also, Santana being Santana (read: awesome)

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE: Ad Nauseum**

**6:15 pm**

To say that Santana is exhausted would be a gross understatement as she collapses onto her bed without bothering to change out of her uniform. Cheerio practice after school had been particularly brutal today and she is well aware that, unless she can summon the energy to prepare an ice bath, she is going to be sore for _**days**_. On top of that, Sue called her into her office right after practice…once again providing an excuse to keep the Latina out of the locker room with her half-naked teammates.

Not surprisingly Sue wanted to discuss her plan to get Kurt to come back to McKinley. While she applauded Santana's ability to slushy and, in effect, humiliate her competition _**and**_ keep her own hands clean in the process, Sue issued a ban on all slushying…effective _**immediately**_. The Bully Whips' uniforms would be arriving on Wednesday. Coach Sylvester already discussed the plan for the anti-bullying club with Figgins, who was one-hundred percent behind the idea.

Thursday is going to mark the first day that The Bully Whips will be out on patrol. Figgins will be speaking to Mr. Schuester about arranging a special glee club meeting first thing before classes start to officially announce The Bully Whips to the club and allow Santana and David the opportunity to apologize to them for their behavior…or whatever. Friday their posters announcing their Prom Queen and King candidacy will go up. Monday will have David and his father meeting with Kurt and Mr. Hummel in Figgins' office to, hopefully, lure him back to McKinley.

It seems pretty solid in theory as long as everything runs according to plan. Santana is comfortable with everything Sue laid out with the exception of David's meeting with Kurt. That is the one aspect of this plot that she won't have a direct hand in and she won't be able to guide him along in the conversation since she won't be there. The thought of not having any control of what is going to happen makes her nervous. One wrong word from David could ruin _**everything**_. If he screws up, then Kurt won't come back, she won't win Prom Queen, Sue will be _**pissed**_ and could throw her off the squad and/or out her to the world. Her parents will find out and inevitably disown her while throwing her out of the house and…

The Cheerio captain finds herself feeling lightheaded as her breaths only come in the form of short, deep gasps while her thoughts spin wildly out of her control. She buries her face in her pillow in an effort to get her breathing to slow to a normal rate and she wills herself to calm down and fight her increasing panic. Santana clenches her eyes shut tightly, tears seeping out of the corners, as she gradually returns to a state of equilibrium before pulling her head off the pillow.

In realizing how distressed just the _**thought**_ of failure makes her, Santana knows that she is going to have to be extra hard on David to make sure he doesn't fuck this up for them _**both**_. If she goes down, there is no way in _**hell**_ that she won't be taking him with her. She's going to need to script out _**everything**_ they say to New Directions on Thursday as well as everything David is going to need to remember for Monday. Santana has every intention of making sure she drills all of this into her fake boyfriend's skull ad nauseum. She wants him to be able to repeat it back to her in his sleep.

With a goal set to take her mind off all of her anxiety, Santana gets up to prepare an ice bath before she gets too stiff. Then she is going to put together the most compelling, convincing and 'sincere' script for her and Dave to follow so they can win over the glee club in a couple of days.

"Those losers will never know what hit them," she murmurs determinedly under her breath.

* * *

**Meanwhile**

The two older blondes share a look of concern as they observe their oldest child listlessly drowning her peas in mashed potatoes like it was quicksand. Fifteen minutes into dinner and the typically voracious teen has yet to take a bite.

"Is there something bothering you Sweetheart?" Anne Pierce asks her daughter, reaching over to gently brush her fingers across the girl's wrist in a fleeting, but affectionate, gesture.

Brittany sighs before looking up to make eye contact with her parents, biting her bottom lip in thought as she debates on what, and how much, to tell them. "It's nothing. I'm just working on figuring some stuff out," she replies vaguely.

"Does this have something to do with that Artie boy?" Andrew Pierce questions, eyes narrowing slightly at the thought of his daughter's boyfriend putting her in this state of inner turmoil.

"A little," the former Cheerio hedges before catching the look of rage flit across her father's face. "He hasn't done or said anything, Daddy. He's more of an innocent bystander than anything," she brushes off his concerns with a slight smile to conceal the lies. If nothing else, Artie has been more of a catalyst in everything that eventually led to her current situation. She also doesn't need to tell her parents how the other boy has the annoying tendency to infantilize her and treat her in a way that all he really cares about is the fact that he's dating one of the hottest girls in school and what that does for his popularity.

"Is this about Santana?" Emily chimes in out of nowhere, her own bright blue eyes shining knowingly.

A surprised Brittany drops her fork, the metal clattering noisily on the plate, and her face turns red in embarrassment. She forgot how observant her little sister can be. "What makes you think it has something to do with her?" She avoids the question with one of her own. An interested Mr. and Mrs. Pierce quietly watch on, intrigued by the possible insight of their youngest.

"Because she hasn't been around in for_**ever**_. And you haven't been texting her all the time like usual-"

"How do you know Em?" The older girl challenges.

Emily rolls her eyes in exasperation. "You smile differently when you get a text from her and you look a lot happier than when it's _**Fartie**_," she explains, scowling at the mention of her older sister's boyfriend…and her own nickname for him.

"Em, be nice," Mrs. Pierce warns, trying not to smile at her child's transparent dislike for the other boy.

The youngest of the Pierce clan's words have the effect of silencing Brittany and causing her to stare back down at her plate, hiding a slight blush. Her parents don't fail to notice this abrupt change in behavior.

"Brittany, _**did**_ something happen with you and Santana?" Mr. Pierce questions the other girl's very telling silence.

"We had a stupid disagreement about something in glee and we're trying to work through it. It's no big deal," Brittany answers, not entirely lying, but omitting quite a bit.

Her parents seem infinitely relieved and they relax almost immediately. "See Anne, she's only going through her 'Santana withdrawal' that she gets whenever they go more than 15 minutes without talking to, texting or seeing each other," Andrew smiles at his wife, who only rolls her eyes.

"You should apologize to her," Emily pointedly tells her sister.

"What makes you think this is _**my**_ fault?" Brittany replies, affronted by the implication.

"Tana would've apologized by now if she thought it was hers," she shrugs obviously as the others allow the indisputable truth of that to sink in.

Brittany doesn't say that she already tried that because it will only lead to more questions that she won't be able to answer without betraying Santana's trust. Admitting that the Latina didn't accept or acknowledge her apology would only raise a red flag with her parents and she can't bring herself to give them the whole story quite yet.

Suddenly Brittany isn't so hungry anymore.

* * *

**Thursday – 7:30 am**

Santana is not eager to set foot back in the glee club's choir room, but she knows it's a necessary evil to keep Sue appeased. As she hears Principal Figgins and David talking to the members of New Directions from outside the door, she mouths along to her boyfriend's words as he's saying them. He flawlessly delivers the mini-speech she wrote for him. Setting a confident, but mildly contrite, look on her face, she takes her cue to enter. The resulting uproar is almost as bad it was when Dave entered minutes earlier.

"Okay now children, don't get your bunched panties in a twister," Figgins attempts to calm the group, which works, oddly enough. "Listen to what Miss Lopez has to say. No one is here to be troublecausers, okay?" He asks rhetorically and, after a moment of silence, he gestures to Santana that she has the floor.

"Look, I know I've been horrible to each and every one of you for as long as I can remember. David and I both know that we're _**far**_ from being the poster children for tolerance and respect but, after discussing it, we decided that that was something we wanted to change about ourselves," Santana begins, playing her part by pointedly wringing her hands together to feign nervousness before reaching over and lacing her fingers with David's and giving him an 'adoring' smile. "David and I were talking about it and…"

"Gross," Brittany whispers to Quinn from under her breath, her face screwed up in disgust at the thought of Santana using him, of all boys, to try and assert her heterosexuality.

Santana trails off for a moment, briefly forgetting what she was going to say when witnessed Brittany's brief exchange with Quinn, before getting herself back on track. "…and we decided that we wanted to change, not only ourselves, but the whole school. There's a serious problem with bullying here at McKinley and it stops now," she finishes firmly after she drags her eyes away from Brittany.

"And you expect us to just believe you?" Artie scoffs incredulously, his arms folded across his chest and missing the mild look of disapproval on his girlfriend's face

"You two are the biggest bullies here," Mercedes adds.

"Not anymore. David and I have decided to do something about it," Santana defends them both.

"As the cofounders of the Bully Whips, I have deputized Mr. Karofsky and Ms. Lopez to enforce McKinley's new anti-bullying policies," Principal Figgins adds enthusiastically.

"The Bully Whips?" A skeptical Tina questions.

"It's an anti-bullying club. The first of its kind in the country," David explains softly.

"Doesn't that go against everything the Cheerios taught you? Won't this get you kicked off the squad?" Finn condescendingly asks Santana with a smug smirk.

"Actually, _**Finn**_considerate, the Bully Whips' faculty sponsor just so happens to be one Sue Sylvester so I'm fairly certain my position on the squad is safe," Santana retorts in exasperation.

"You're kidding, right?" A disbelieving Quinn asks, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she waits for them to announce that this is all a big prank.

"Sue Sylvester supports the Bully Whips completely," Figgins assures the group.

"And this has nothing to do with your run for Prom King and Queen being _**officially**_ announced tomorrow?" Quinn attempts to expose a possible ulterior motive while referring to her and Finn's slushying at the beginning of the week as their _**un**_official announcement.

"Nothing at all, this isn't an attempt to win votes. David and I have simply made it our personal mission to make bullying a thing of the past here at McKinley. Trust us," Santana offers with her version of an innocent smile…which comes off looking more like a feral grin than anything else.

Several members of the glee club share a worried look at the Latina's last two words, in the backs of their minds, the dramatic score and demonic chanting of the theme song from _The Omen_ begins to play ominously. Brittany, however, can't seem to tear her gaze away from the way Santana's and David's fingers are comfortably laced together, their joined hands hanging idly between them.

* * *

**Friday Morning**

"That hat…there are no words that can fully express my feelings on it," Brad begins pensively before trailing off and shaking his head at the abomination the Latina has chosen to wear, playfully flipping it off her head with a flick of his wrist.

"It's a _**beret**_…" Santana snarkily corrects him as she leans forward to snatch it off the next step down from her spot on their stoop outside the East wing door. "And blame Sue," she grumbles in annoyance.

"Right, the Bully Whips," Brad nods in acknowledgement before casting his gaze back out to the parking lot.

"The jackets are worse than the hat," she informs him after a moment of silence as they puff on their respective cigarettes.

"I saw King Jockstrap wearing his before first period. It's pretty awful," the pianist concedes.

"'King Jockstrap'? Is _**that**_ the nickname you've decided to go with?" Santana smirks her question, shaking her head.

Brad shrugs noncommittally. "Don't really know the kid outside of what I hear around the halls," he justifies his, admittedly, lame nickname for the brunette's gay beard.

"David's actually a decent guy and his family is great. His parents are just so-"

"Shit!" Brad hisses in a panic and Santana turns to see him fumbling with his lit cigarette that he dropped on his lap in surprise. "You met his _**parents**_?" He asks incredulously.

Santana wants to be pissed at how shocked Brad clearly is, but she can't deny that the other man knows her well enough to appreciate how something like that would make her feel. After being known as the bitchy school slut and an easy lay, she's so used to people seeing her as nothing more than a sex object. Aside from Brittany, David is the only person that's ever actually willingly brought her around his family without shame or embarrassment. To see that David appeared almost _**proud**_ to have Santana as a girlfriend when she met his family and to know that he actually _**defended**_ her when Azimio was talking down about her made her feel like maybe she really _**was**_ as good of a person as Brittany believed her to be. That feeling never lasts long though before she remembers that this is all an act and David is only playing the part she told him to play. When all of her old, familiar insecurities come crashing down once again, she no longer has anyone there to remind her that at least one person loves her and wants to be with her…and 'proudly so' at that.

"His little sister too," Santana dully replies after remembering that now is not the time to start feeling sorry for herself.

Brad glances at the teen from the corner of his eye as he finishes what's left of his cigarette, stubbing it out on the concrete under his feet. "You can't keep lying like this. Stuff like pretending to date that boy for your image and for Sue are only making things more difficult for you. You need to tell her-"

"I _**did**_. Earlier this week," she interrupts him, earning nothing but stunned silence. "As it turns out, she already had her suspicions and, for the most part, she's made it a point to make sure that I'm never really in the locker room at the same time as the other Cheerios," she goes on to explain blandly, still trying to process _**that**_ particular conversation herself.

"She already suspected?" Brad gapes earning a nod from the Latina. "And, since you're still with David, I'm guessing that she's forcing you to stay in the closet until graduation?" He wonders, anger bubbling up in her defense at the thought.

"She told me that if I wanted to come out then she wanted me to wait until after Nationals. She didn't say anything about _**never**_ telling _**anyone**_ ever," she corrects him, crushing the butt of her cigarette on the cement step.

Looking at the Latina, Brad silently brings his index finger up in front of his chin before pointing it at her, his eyebrows raised slightly in question. Santana rolls her eyes at her companion with the hint of a smile on her lips at him. "You can't pull that ASL crap on me out of nowhere like that," she chastises him good-naturedly in response to him randomly signing '_You don't say_'.

Bringing up a loose fist, thumb sticking out and closed fingers facing inward, he rubs a counterclockwise circle on his chest. However, his smirk makes him appear decidedly _**less**_ sorry than his gesture suggests.

Santana simply shakes her head in amusement at the other man's behavior. "I expected Sue to be pissed off or…something," she eventually says after several moments of silence.

"I think you know her better than that," Brad contradicts her.

"She can be _**such**_ a miserable _**bitch**_ sometimes, though," she whines, defending herself for having her reservations in terms of the other woman's potential reaction.

"So can you," Brad shrugs nonchalantly.

"So freaking charming," Santana sarcastically scoffs at his reply before seemingly deflating after a moment. "I think I made a mistake telling her," she quietly confides.

"Give her a little credit. Not too long ago you even told me that Sue paid more attention to you than your own parents ever did. In her own sick and twisted 'Sue Sylvester' way, she's looking out for you…like some demented guardian angel ," Brad smirks at his description.

"_**There's**_ a terrifying thought," she snorts. Their conversation is cut short by the shrill sound of the bell. "So, what class you have next?" She asks the other man as she stands up at the same time as him.

"Advanced ASL…you and Brittany should consider signing up for it next year. It would be an easy A for you girls," he suggests.

They both choose to ignore the brief flash of pain the Latina's eyes at the mention of the blonde girl. "Well, we had a good teacher," she nudges him playfully with her elbow and a small, forced smile.

Wordlessly, Brad opens the door for the head Cheerio, waving his free arm in an exaggerated wide sweeping gesture to usher her into the building first. "We're not even inside the building yet, Chatty Cathy," Santana rolls her eyes good-naturedly before entering. His only response is a simple shrug and a cryptic smile.

* * *

**6:45 pm**

David is making his way through the halls of McKinley on his way to the Cheerios' locker room. In keeping up with their image as a couple, he makes it a point to drive her in to school on the mornings that she doesn't have early practice and waits around to give her a ride home. So, like any good Cheerio boyfriend during their own sports' off-season, he sat up in the bleachers and watched with the other guys. Mostly the other guys just wasted their time talking about sex and videogames and the latest action film starring some guy and his chiseled abs. With the exception of the last topic, David mostly tuned out in favor of actually watching the squad practice.

It was actually kind of amazing for him to witness. Coach Sue rode her Cheerios harder than any coach he ever had for football _**or**_ hockey. Despite Santana not really even being his girlfriend, David still felt a sense of pride whenever she took charge of the practice. There's no denying that the girl is a natural leader. Plus, it almost gave him a feeling of superiority over the other guys because it was _**his**_ 'girlfriend' telling _**their**_ girlfriends what to do and calling the shots. He supposes that this is what it probably must feel like in a 'normal' high school when a cheerleader is dating the captain of the football team or something.

After spending a few extra minutes discussing how toned the guys were in _300_ – in a totally not at all gay kind of way – David went off to meet up with Santana outside of the Cheerio locker room to give her a ride home. However, not more than thirty feet from the locker room door, he finds himself stopping short, not at all prepared for any of this.

"What are _**you**_ doing here Karofsky?" Kurt practically sneers at the jock, subtly stepping back and closer to a neatly groomed and well-dressed boy.

"_**This**_ is him?" The as yet unnamed boy asks Kurt, a hint of protectiveness easing into his tone.

"Yes," Kurt snipes back. "Haven't you done enough to torture the glee club?" He questions in a vaguely accusing manner.

"Kurt…I…" David stammers in confusion, generally flustered from running into the other boy before he was ready to see him.

"You what?" The other boy challenges as he goes to stand in between Kurt and David.

"Blaine, be careful," Kurt says, worried for his almost-boyfriend.

The boy in question shoots him a brief, comforting smile before turning back to the bully that towers over him. "I'm warning you right now. You so much as lay a finger on him again and I'll-"

"What could you possibly do to someone that can bench press _**five**_ of you, Warbler?" A much appreciated voice speaks up from behind the two smaller boys.

"_**Santana**_!" Kurt hisses her name as though saying it too loudly would be like committing some unspeakable crime against humanity. "I should've known you had something to do with this," he attempts to glare but only seems to look more prissy than usual…and like he just bit into a lemon.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I'm just getting out of Cheerio practice and David's my ride home," Santana rolls her eyes, her arms crossed over her chest, before sauntering over to the three boys.

The only reply Blaine is able to formulate is silently mouthing the word 'oh' to no one in particular.

"So it _**is**_ true then. You and Karofsky are McKinley's newest unholy power couple?" Kurt says more than asks, his face a model of incredulity and the tiniest bit of fear.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Santana wonders with feigned innocence and a touch of sarcasm as she goes to stand by her increasingly confused boyfriend's side. "David and I have started an anti-bullying club and it's our duty to prevent bullying as well as interfere when we witness someone else being bullied by others," she explains as though it was the most obvious and expected thing they could've done.

"Wait, you enforce _**anti**_-bullying policies? _**You two**_?" Kurt has to make sure he's hearing correctly.

"Yes, and I couldn't help but overhear the beginning of a threat from 1950s pretty boy here," Santana confirms Kurt's inquiries as well as throw out an accusation of her own.

"What? No! It wasn't like…you don't understand," Blaine flounders, shaking his head and moving to hide behind Kurt in the face of the Latina's glare.

"It was a big misunderstanding, Santana," David finally contributes as he catches up to what is being said.

"Exactly!" Blaine agrees enthusiastically.

"Well, why didn't you say so to begin with?" Santana grins cheerfully, her usual playful maliciousness lingering just under the surface of her words. "I mean, I would really _**hate**_ to have to ban the two of you from school grounds before the glee club's big show tonight. They need all the supporters they can get, right?" She asks rhetorically, the implied threat of kicking them out hanging in the air, louder than any words could have conveyed.

"Santana, they get it, okay? Be nice," David quietly states, unintentionally loud enough for the other two boys to hear.

"We understand completely…and we have to get to the auditorium so we aren't late," Blaine says amicably as he begins to pull a gaping Kurt down the hall.

"Take care boys," Santana smirks, waving them off using just the tips of her fingers.

For his part, Kurt is dumbfounded that _**David Karofsky**_, of all people, just told _**Santana Lopez**_ to be nice. It just doesn't make _**any**_ sense. His confusion only escalates when he happens to see Karofsky chivalrously taking Santana's gym bag for her, earning himself a playful eye roll from the Latina followed up by an actual, _**genuine**_ smile from her. That's all it takes for him to be overwhelmed by a foreign sense of sympathy for the surly head Cheerio. Santana seems to honestly like Karofsky and Kurt's afraid that she'll end up having her cruel, black heart broken when she finds out he's gay.

As Santana and David make their way out of the school, he can't help but think about all that happened in a few short minutes. "Thanks for stepping up for me the way you did. I was caught off guard with them just showing up like that," he expresses his gratitude, not used to anyone defending him.

"Don't mention it. Seriously," she retorts, a hint of a smile on her lips.

David shakes his head at her in amusement before growing thoughtful once more. "You know Kurt's going to be even more freaked out to come back here because of how _Twilight Zone_ this was for him," he states simply. This time Santana doesn't bother trying to hold back her laugh.

* * *

**Saturday – 3:00 pm**

Her focus is on nothing but the impact of her cross-trainers hitting the pavement with each stride on the track, the force from each footfall making the muscles in her calves burn exquisitely and her knees protest from being forced to absorb the shock of each angry move forward. Santana is able to get lost in the way the rhythmic _thump_…_thump_…_thump_ of her steps almost seems to mirror the more rapid _thumpthumpthump_ of her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She can lose herself in the sound of her quick, but controlled, breaths escaping her mouth and being sucked in through her nose. Listening to her sneakers hitting the ground, her heart thudding in her head and her breathing all harmonizing together is her way of keeping all unwanted thoughts out of her mind.

Cheerios practice ended over an hour ago and, wanting to put off her inevitable return home, she decided to run laps on the track surrounding the football field. She's still alone, but at least she isn't cooped up inside staring at the same walls she's been studying since the fallout with Brittany. Santana doesn't want to focus on that though, she'd rather keep pretending that this self-imposed isolation of hers is what she really wants and needs. It's easier for her to convince herself that she just wants to be left alone rather than dwell on the fact that she's all but made herself completely unapproachable to any of her peers.

Santana's pace falters briefly when she thinks about how eager she had been when Coach asked to speak with her after practice was over. She cringes at how pathetic she must have looked at being so desperate for any kind of meaningful human contact that she actually perked up when Sue called her to her office. Shaking her head in disgust at herself, she slows down until she's stopped in front of the bleachers. Sue almost appearing sympathetic for a split second only proves how pathetic she's starting to get…especially when she actually felt the disappointment crash through her when she realized that Sue only wanted to ask if David was ready for Monday's meeting with Figgins and Kurt.

Leaning over with her hands on her knees, she struggles to suck in each breath and has to consciously remind herself to let it out. Santana didn't realize how hard she must have been pushing herself. She ran countless laps after their eight hour practice. A part of her is screaming that she's pushing herself too hard while a louder and more convincing part is reminding her that Nationals are _**so**_ close. All she has to do is keep pushing herself a little longer and _**then**_ she'll be able to breathe again.

Her heart is hammering so hard that she's almost afraid it's going to launch itself through her ribcage and right out of her chest. She staggers over to the patch of grass by the players' benches in front of the bleachers, her tired legs feel boneless, like Jell-O. Dropping unceremoniously onto the soft grass, Santana rolls on to her back and stares up at the bright blue, cloudless sky. A bead of sweat begins its slow descent from her brow down the side of her face, it itches maddeningly, but Santana can't summon the energy required to lift her arm and wipe it away.

It's an unquestionably beautiful day. The birds are chirping, the sun is shining and Santana even watched a fucking butterfly flutter past her earlier. This is the epitome of the perfect Spring day and she can't even appreciate it. Santana can't help but think that it just isn't fair.

* * *

**Two Hours Later**

A freshly showered Santana is sitting at the vanity in her room and flat-ironing her blow dried hair. She's trying to be thorough and take her time because, after this, her schedule is clear for the rest of the weekend. If she were anyone else, she's certain she would be crying right now. Instead, she keeps her attention on the mirror as she slowly glides the flat-iron over a section of hair, watching as the steam rises as she moves.

The Latina is pulled out of her reverie by her phone lighting up and buzzing across the top of the vanity. Nearly dropping the hot flat-iron in surprise, she manages to set it down and pick up her phone, allowing it to buzz a moment or two longer so as not to sound too eager when she answers.

"Hey," she greets the caller casually, almost kicking herself for not bothering to check the caller ID first and praying that it isn't a telemarketer.

"You busy?" A familiar voice asks followed by an admonishment in the background for being so blunt and rude.

"Flat-ironing my hair," Santana answers, leaning back in her chair, smiling at the fact that Dave's mother chastised him like that.

"Oh, do you have plans for tonight?" David wonders, brows furrowed as he tries to remember if she mentioned anything to him yesterday.

"Really, David?" The brunette snorts. "Who would I _**possibly**_ have made plans with?" She asks him obviously. "I don't have any friends, remember," she reminds him bitterly.

"Why don't you come over here then? Mom made dinner and we have more than enough here. Then we can hang out or something," he suggests, trying to make her lack of plans seem like it works in her favor rather than letting her attitude bring him down.

"I already ate," Santana lies easily, remembering how much she hated herself after eating as much as she did at his house last Friday before the party. Mrs. Karofsky is a damn good cook, but she doesn't want to risk getting knocked back down to the bottom of the pyramid for letting herself get fat.

"Right," the other boy deadpans, not believing her for a second. "We still have dessert though. Apple pie," he tries again, weakly returning his mother's encouraging smile.

"Wow, could your family possibly be any _**more**_ wholesome?" The Latina snarks with an eye roll, her grip on her phone tightening as her resolve starts to give way.

"Katie helped when she found out you might be coming over," he adds.

"Damn it," she grumbles at the low-blow of bringing his little sister into the conversation. "Fine, apple pie it is since you seem to want me there _**so**_ bad," she tries hide the smile in her voice at the thought of someone actually wanting her around.

"Of course we do," David says nonchalantly, but honestly.

"'We'?" Santana blurts out questioningly before she can help it.

"Yeah, Katie and my parents love you…and, well, you're kind of my best friend right now," he lowers his voice on the last part, whispering it almost shyly.

Santana bites her lip in an effort to contain the grin threatening to break through. "Don't start getting all sappy on me now, Daisy," she jokes lightly. "When do you want me there?" She wonders, glancing at the clock on by her bed as he relays the question to his mother.

"Whenever is perfectly fine. We'll save a spot for you if you change your mind about dinner," She hears Mrs. Karofsky's reply in the background.

"Great," Santana says, mentally cycling through her wardrobe for something appropriate to wear. "I'll see you in, like, an hour?" She asks to make sure her timing wouldn't be a problem.

"Sounds great. See you then," David answers back easily before they exchange goodbyes and hang up.

Santana stares into the mirror of her vanity for a moment before sighing and picking her flat iron back up. She can't help but be grateful that the squad already had their weekly weigh-ins first thing this morning and she'll have a whole week to work off tonight's apple pie.

* * *

**6:30 pm**

Santana unceremoniously drops down onto David's bed, staring up at the ceiling. The heavy feeling from the pie compounded with the fatigue from this morning's practice finally hitting her. Dave chuckles and shakes his head as he enters the room, closing the door behind him before taking a seat in the chair by his desk.

"Are you ready for your meeting on Monday?" Santana eventually asks him after several short moments of silence.

"Ugh," the other boy groans in annoyance. "_**Yes**_. We've been over it dozens of times," he answers, tired of having the Latina pestering him about it.

"And having your father in there with you won't be a problem, right?" She clarifies, feeling on edge ever since she found out Mr. Karofsky would be present when David apologizes to Kurt.

"Of course not," David assures her.

Santana leans up slightly so that she's still reclining back, but she's resting on her elbows so she can look at him. "And what are you going to tell him if he seems too suspicious?" Santana quizzes him on what they discussed, an eyebrow raised challengingly.

"Tell him it was your idea and make sure I leave Sue's name out of it," David smirks.

"Good," the head Cheerio nods in satisfaction before lying back completely again.

Before either of them can say anything else, there is a short knock on the door before it opens. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Diane asks as she enters the room with a hand covering her eyes.

Santana can help but chuckle when David groans in embarrassment, his face turning beet red. "Mom, seriously?" He whines.

The older woman removes her hand from her eyes to find the two teens with a good twenty feet of space between them. "Just making sure…What did I tell you about keeping this door open?" She questions her son.

"I'm sorry, I forgot," David apologizes sincerely.

"That's okay, just try to remember from here on," Mrs. Karofsky smiles fondly at her oldest child, earning a nod in return. "I'll leave you guys to it then. Behave," she warns them in a mock-serious tone.

"Yes Ma'am," Santana smirks, barely able to contain her amusement, both at the interaction between David and his mother as well as at the idea of them even _**doing**_ anything that the other woman is implying.

"Sorry about that," the jock mumbles an apology when he's certain that his mother is well out of earshot.

Santana simply shrugs. "Your parents love you and, supposedly, that's what parents are supposed to do when they care," she jokes self-deprecatingly.

"I'm sure your parents love you too, Santana," Dave replies after taking a moment to digest his beard's words and try to work out what to say. All she does is shrug noncommittally as another silence settles over the duo.

Sitting up, Santana peeks out the bedroom door before sliding to the end of the bed, dropping her feet to the floor and leaning in closer to the other boy. "Have you considered telling your parents that you're gay?" She asks him quietly, not wanting to risk them being overheard by his younger sister and go to his parents about what she heard.

At the sudden, out-of-left-field question, David hesitates for a split second before his shoulders sag slightly. "I've thought about it, but…I don't know…" he trails off uncertainly.

Moving back away slightly so she can get a better look at the dark-haired boy, Santana thinks back on the conversation she had with his mother in the kitchen last Friday. "I think you should tell them," she concludes after several long moments of saying nothing.

"What?" He questions, his voice pitching up in discomfort.

"Not _**now**_…but, like, after Prom," she rolls her eyes.

David relaxes somewhat, but still remains uncertain. "Why?" He eventually asks, wondering why she's even bringing it up.

"Because your parents are really supportive and I think they'd be okay with it," she says, not wanting to tell him that his mother even said as much to her last Friday.

"Someday…maybe. I'm just not ready right now," he sighs, disappointed in himself for being such a coward.

"Fair enough," Santana nods with an encouraging smile.

David gets up from his desk chair to sit next to the Latina on the edge of the bed. "What about your parents?" He turns her question around on her, more curious than accusing.

The Latina releases a short, humorless laugh. "My parents would either kick me out or simply not care and/or consider it to be 'just a phase'," she informs him.

"It can't be _**that**_ bad," he hopes the other girl is exaggerating.

"Worse, probably," she scoffs.

"What about aunts, uncles, cousins…grandparents? Is there _**any**_one you can tell?" David tries desperately.

"There's my abuela but, well…she's _**not**_ a nice lady. She helped raise me and she treats insults like they're one of the basic food groups: a set number of servings are required daily. My father is convinced that she's the cause of the cancer that killed my abuelo a few years back," Santana describes the older woman.

"That doesn't necessarily mean she won't accept you," David argues earning an idle shrug. "What about your other grandparents?" He tries again, resulting in a faint reflective smile from the other girl.

"My Nana wouldn't love me any less. She was always so…great," she tells him fondly.

"Why can't you tell her then?" He prompts her.

"She died last summer," Santana bluntly says.

"Oh," David finds himself at a loss for words.

Santana wants to kick herself for bringing down both of their moods. "So, movie?" She suggests with a forced grin, wanting nothing more than to just move on.

"Yeah," David readily agrees, happy to put this conversation behind them.

* * *

Well, this one ended on a happy note, didn't it? Also, yes, I find it funny that I wrote Kurt as feeling bad for Santana and concerning himself over David breaking her heart if she finds out he's gay, basically misreading the situation _**completely**_. Still, it was fun writing her as defending David instead of Kurt and Blaine. Of course I had to bring up her abuela in the event I decided to incorporate her later…and to keep as close to canon on the show as possible.

This chapter was so Santana-insight heavy to give an idea as to how much pressure she's under (from others as well as herself) and to show how much she's struggling with her own anxieties and insecurities. It didn't really feel like that was all made clear in previous/recent chapters because they were focused so much on just building the Pezsky friendship and, since she's still hiding so much from Dave, a great deal of her thoughts and mental wanderings were cut off as well to reflect that. Basically, her hiding herself from Dave in the narrative means she's also hiding more from you guys as well, if that makes sense.

Also, another reason there was a lot of emphasis on her thoughts was simply me laying out a general timeline of events to come in a way that seems relatively natural instead of forced into dialogue. Essentially, I used her thoughts a) to provide some much needed insight; b) a method of foreshadowing; and c) because I was a little lazy.

Next chapter will open with the scene where David meets with Kurt and everyone in Figgins' office. It won't vary much from the actual episode so, naturally, after going through that scene several times, the last thing I wanted to do was have to write it. I am telling you all of this because my wife, who is forever wanting me to let her help, offered to write it for me. I told her what the changes were going to be within the original dialogue and everything else. She agreed under the conditions that I won't go back and change anything she writes with the exception of any spelling and/or grammar issues that may arise, that I also let her do the author's notes for the next chapter too (opening _**and**_ closing) and she gets to name the chapter. Now, it actually turned out pretty well and it was hard for even me to be able to tell that I didn't write it. Basically, this is only a head's up in terms of the chapter title and notes.

Also next chapter: brace yourselves for a pretty extended Brittany/Santana scene.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 20 January 2012


	10. Perfect Fit

**A/N**: So, even though I technically wrote the first scene in this, I cheated by using my wife a lot with it. My wife apologizes if the second part seems rushed…she wanted this chapter up before she leaves to catch a flight for work here in about ten.

**Spoilers**: _Born This Way_

**Warnings**: Eating disorder references, Brittany/Santana tension, my wife's writing ;)

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN: Perfect Fit**

**Monday – 7:35 am**

David can't help but be mildly distracted by the nervous Cheerio Captain lingering by Principal Figgins' secretary's desk as Burt Hummel and his father discuss everything. He has to admit, it was more than a little intimidating when he and his father walked in to find Burt, Kurt, Finn and Mr. Schuester all in attendance. It made him feel like he was being ganged up on, but it would obviously have been unfair to say as much when the whole reason for the meeting was how he bullied and threatened Kurt.

The large office feels a lot smaller when seven people are crammed in it. Even though four people in this room are mad at him, possibly to the point of hating him, David is at least somewhat comforted by Santana's presence outside of the office. He knows that her concern isn't entirely centered on this working out in regards to Coach Sylvester's latest plot, but also on his well-being. Never in a million years would he have ever thought that he would find a best friend in Santana Lopez. She has been the bane of his existence since Kindergarten and now she was the one person he trusted more than anyone else…he just wishes she would confide in him in return.

A wave of concern for the Latina washes over David out of nowhere as he happens to catch her gaze. The other girl has so much on her shoulders that it's a wonder she doesn't fall over from the weight of it all. Her obsession with her image and trying to be perfect bothers him more than anything and he can see how it manifests itself constantly whether it be her constant need to be in control or her affinity for manipulation…or the eating disorder that he has yet to fully prove or define. Yet the worst part is that he has no idea how to approach her about anything that won't result in her shutting him out. It's not just the eating, but her own allusions to drinking regularly, even if she's alone, that worries him. Everything is made all the worse by the fact that she's all alone in that big house, like, all the time and he really _**hates**_ the idea of her being alone like that with her own thoughts.

"Because he said he was going to kill my son!" Burt's shouting wrenches David from his musings on his friend.

"But I didn't mean it. It's just a figure of speech," David is quick to defend himself. Just about everyone he knows has said that at one time or another and no one's ever been serious.

"How's he supposed to know that?" Burt yells back rhetorically as he points to Kurt, causing David to flinch slightly.

"Your words still matter, David," Mr. Schuester calmly and quietly explains.

David steels himself knowing that this is it, this is the point where everything he went over with Santana is going to come into play. "I know. You have to believe how awful I feel about them, those ones especially. It's not me. Not anymore," he tells them, sounding almost desperate for them to believe him but still managing to convey his sincerity because he's still being honest.

The room goes quiet, all eyes on the boy this is all about. "What do _**you**_ think Kurt?" Will asks after several seconds pass by.

Kurt studies his closeted former tormentor for a long moment. "I believe he realizes what he did was wrong," he concludes firmly as he can see a genuine change in the other boy compared to before he transferred to Dalton. After catching a glimpse of this 'newer, gentler' David Karofsky last Friday, he can't help but be convinced that it isn't just an act…not entirely.

"You're only saying that because you want to be back at this school so bad!" His father barks, dubious of the jock's sincerity and motives.

"Can Dave and I sp-speak for a moment alone?" Kurt requests, not taking his eyes off the other boy until he realizes that no one's moving. "You can wait right outside in the hall," he assures them upon sensing their anxiety.

Principal Figgins stands while Burt and Will share a look before reluctantly joining him with Finn following them, figuring that it must be fine if everyone else is okay with it. The other two boys watch as they shuffle out before turning their attention to one another. David shifts uncomfortably under the smaller boy's scrutiny.

"What's your angle here?" Kurt finally asks, getting straight to the point.

David takes a deep breath, having anticipated this. "I'm just trying to make things right," he repeats the well-practiced line.

Kurt narrows his eyes and leans slightly forward in his seat towards the reformed bully. "David, _**I**_ _**know**_, remember? And I haven't told anyone," he is quick to remind him, almost as though gloating to throw it in his face.

"_**Why**_? It would have made your life a lot easier," Dave is unable to keep the confusion out of his voice, sounding nearly desperate as he asks.

At that, Kurt sighs and leans back in his chair to think wisely about how to word it. "I don't believe in denying who you are, but I don't believe in outing either," he explains slowly and carefully to reassure the football player before his expression becomes stern. "But still, you _**owe**_ me the truth. What's going on here?" He demands, knowing there must be more to the story considering how out-of-nowhere this all seems.

With another deep breath, David realizes that this is it. This is the question Santana had been preparing him for and, out of everything he's said so far, it will be the only outright lie. "It was Santana's idea. She wants to be Prom Queen so she figures if we can get you back we'll get everyone to vote for us," he explains smoothly, consciously maintaining eye contact despite how much he wants to look away. Santana told him how important that is if he wants to be believed.

The clock ticks by for several long seconds while Kurt absorbs the explanation. "I'm both repulsed and impressed by her Lady Macbethian ways," he finally states, appearing to be far more impressed than repulsed. "A Latina Eve Harrington," he adds to himself with an amused smirk before noticing the baffled look on the other boy's face. "Okay, if you're going to be gay you simply _**must**_ know who that is," he states incredulously.

That brings David back to the conversation he had with Santana after that party a little over a week ago. "I really wish everyone would stop expecting me to be such a gay stereotype," he mutters bitterly before realizing that it sounds as if he's both admitting his sexuality _**and**_ insinuating that someone else knows about it other than Kurt and, presumably now, Blaine. "Besides, I don't know for sure I even _**am**_ gay, okay? Stop being such a broken record," he is quick to add, backtracking and trying to pull attention away from his use of 'everyone'.

Kurt rolls his eyes and decides to pretend David never even opened his mouth, his wording not even registering. "Okay, I have several options here," he goes on, a plan already having formed since he learned the 'truth' about what set all of this in motion in the first place. "I could tell everyone the truth about you-"

"Dude, I _**said**_ I'm sorry! You said you wouldn't do that," David erupts, not only panicking about what it could do to him, but also how it might affect Santana and what people might start to assume about her.

"Hold on," Kurt raises a hand to silence the other boy. "_**Or**_, I could return here and marvel with pride at your new anti-bullying movement, which I fully believe in, and further demand that you and I start a chapter of PFFLAG here at William McKinley," he continues, injecting a mild amount of sarcasm before growing stern at the end. He notices the blank look on David's face and can't help but be annoyed. "Parents Family and Friends of Lesbians and Gays," he explains in exasperation before continuing, "You need to be educated David. You may not have to come out, but you _**need**_ to be educated," he emphasizes honestly and seriously.

David sighs and his shoulders slump in defeat knowing that he has little choice but to agree before a thought strikes him and he locks his gaze with Kurt's. "What about Santana?" He asks, almost sounding as casual as he hoped to.

Kurt is caught off guard at the seemingly random mention of the head Cheerio. "What _**about**_ her?" He wonders, not sure what she has to do with his proposal.

"Does she have to join this PFFLAG thing too or is it just me?" David clarifies his initial question and subtly trying to determine if Kurt suspects something about Santana's sexuality as well, though he knows it isn't likely.

The question makes Kurt stop and think, _**really**_ think…not about the actual question, but about the girl it's regarding. "You are the only one I'm requiring for it…and she is more than welcome to join if she so chooses, but her participation – or lack thereof – won't affect my return to McKinley," he answers reasonably after a moment.

David visibly relaxes since he has a feeling her reaction to being forced to co-found/participate in a gay support group club or whatever would be far from positive. He really didn't want to have to spring that on her considering the other girl has enough on her plate as it is without having to constantly question whether or not people are speculating about her sexuality because of what club she belongs to.

"Good," David nods thoughtfully after a moment before noticing the scrutinizing look on the other boy's face. "Because I'm pretty sure she wouldn't really be down with that," he hastily explains his reaction.

"Look Dave, I'm going to level with you," Kurt sighs, deciding that this is something that he should really address. "Santana is a mean-spirited, cruel, heartless, manipulative, scheming, sadistic bitch-"

"_**Kurt**_," David growls in a warning tone. He may be at the other boy's mercy to agree to come back to McKinley and keep his sexuality a secret but that certainly doesn't mean that he has to sit around and listen to him badmouth his closet friend/beard…especially since that stuff isn't even true, not really. If nothing else, it's showing him just how little the singer _**really**_ knows about Santana in the first place.

The smaller boy raises his hands to assure him that he's done with his descriptors of the other girl. "My point is that, as much as she hates everyone, she genuinely seems to care about you and you aren't being fair to her by dating her just to hide your sexuality. She may think you're just being respectful of her and that's something of a novelty to her," he smirks slightly and shakes his head at the reference to the Latina's considerable reputation. "Even though she's a surly, unpleasant and slutty bitch, and I don't even particularly _**like**_ her, I still don't think it's right that you lead her on like this. As much as it pains me to say it, she deserves more than to be allowed to think she's in a genuine relationship with someone that cares about her and respects her," he finishes his monologue feeling quite proud and self-righteous for his own perceived altruism.

For his part, David is torn between laughing at how wrong Kurt is about everything and beating the hell out of him for being so backhandedly disrespectful and insulting towards Santana. "You don't know the first thing about Santana. She's such a…She has so much…She doesn't…" he keeps trailing off, unable to end any of those openings without revealing any insecurity or secret that he _**knows**_ she doesn't want others find out about. "I would never hurt her," he finally settles on, that simple phrase perfectly summing up everything he can't tell the other boy as well as his own feelings about her.

"If Santana truly isn't putting up one hell of an act and genuinely cares about you, this _**will**_ hurt her, David," Kurt finally acknowledges, both as an attempt to remind David that Santana has a proven history of doing anything and everything (and any_**one**_) to get what she wanted as well as to make she he knows the this fake relationship will have real consequences.

David breaks eye contact, it becoming increasingly difficult to keep himself from blurting out the truth about Santana's sexuality and the nature of their relationship. "Are we done now?" He asks quietly.

Kurt studies the other boy for a moment, something niggling in the back of his mind that he just can't seem to grasp onto that would help him make sense of all this. "Yes. We'll work out the details for PFFLAG once I get settled back into McKinley," he confirms, deciding to let that thought nagging at him go for the time being.

The two boys turn their attention back outside Figgins' office. Kurt offers a nod towards the three men and Finn signaling that it's okay to come back in. David scans the area where he last saw Santana before spotting her by a water fountain away from where she'd be immediately spotted by the four guys waiting to go back in. He meets her expectant gaze and offers a small smile and subtle nod. Santana's expression floods with relief and her body visibly relaxes as she releases the considerable tension that's been building up since Sue first sprung this part of the plan on her. Mission now accomplished, she turns on her heel and struts down the hall to deliver the good news to her coach personally, relishing in the fact that, despite the ridiculous Bully Whips hat, the crowd still parts for her in terror.

* * *

**6:30 pm**

An exhausted Santana exits the Cheerio locker room wanting little more than to go home, take a hot bath, pop one of her mother's Xanax and sleep for the next twelve hours. With Nationals looming less than three weeks away, her stress levels are at an all-time high…even worse than this time last year. At least last year she had Brittany by her side to ease some of her anxiety and Sue was using Kurt's voice as the routine's focal point. This year, however, it all falls on Santana's shoulders as squad captain to maintain Sue's – and William McKinley High School's Cheerios' – winning streak, thus breaking the previous record of five consecutive wins set by the squad from Rancho Carne, CA over ten years ago. Her job is made all the more difficult because they had to change their entire routine since Coach Sylvester's request to use the human canon was denied…thankfully.

Unfortunately for Santana, her plans for the evening are derailed from the moment she sets foot in the hallway as a familiar blonde immediately matches her stride from, seemingly, out of nowhere. It almost pains Santana to have one more thing to physically show her how in sync she and Brittany are…even after so much time spent apart from and avoiding the taller girl.

It's effortless the way they subconsciously adapt to meet one another's pace, with their arms swaying and steps taken in tandem with the other, each girl's actions mirroring her counterpart. Neither girl would be surprised if someone were to tell them that their breaths synchronize and their hearts begin to beat in time with the other's the second they find themselves in the same general vicinity.

"Practice ended almost an hour ago," Brittany breaks the silence, her tone conversational but with a distinct underlying worry laced through her words.

"I don't recall asking you to wait for me so I don't see why it's of any concern to you," Santana brushes her off as they approach the school's exit, not daring to even so much as look at the other girl.

Brittany isn't the least bit offended or put off by the obvious attempt to push her away…again. She allows herself a moment to simply take in the petite Latina, her eyes scanning over her rigid posture and stiff movements before raking up to study her features, this being the closest she's been to the other girl in weeks. Her brows furrow at the barely concealed fatigue and bags under her eyes. The Latina's cheekbones are more prominent than she remembers from the morning after that party a couple weeks back.

"You don't need extra-long workouts in the gym after practice. You're _**already**_ perfect the way you are," Brittany assures softly but sincerely, her heart aching in the face of Santana's reemerging insecurities with her body.

Santana comes to an abrupt halt, still not able to turn her head to face the other girl, her jaw clenched as her anger and anxiety begin to rise at what she can sense the other girl is not-so-subtly trying to refer to. "What I choose to do with my time is no longer any of your business. I thought I made it clear that I don't consider you to be a part of my life anymore so go back to _**Artie**_ and leave me alone," she says, her voice deceptively calm, belying the swell of emotions roiling around in her gut.

Brittany releases a soft sigh, having expected the other girl to react something like this but knowing that this is in Santana's best interest. "Rachel wants a nose job and we're trying to talk her out of it," she goes on as though Santana never spoke, the knowledge that the other girl is only putting up her defenses is enough to ease the sting of her words…even if only a little.

"I don't care," Santana deadpans as she starts walking again, her lips twitching slightly as a smirk threatens to break through. Brad had told her during second period about _**Finn**_competent's assault of the obnoxious diva in question during their morning practice.

"Mr. Schue's lesson this week is self-acceptance," Brittany informs the other girl pointedly. "We're doing Lady GaGa's _Born This Way_ and we get to make t-shirts that says something about who we are that we should embrace and not hide or be ashamed of," she continues meaningfully, knowing that the Latina will pick up on exactly what she's talking about.

"Still don't care," Santana grumbles bitterly as she pushes through the building's exit.

Hoping to lighten the other girl up and try to ease some of the tension threatening to crush them both, Brittany playfully bumps her shoulder against Santana's. "Oh please, I know you love that song and the always awesome Stefani Germanotta," she grins, earning a small and brief smile from Santana at the use of Lady GaGa's real name. "You should totally join us…and you can even bring David if you want," she hesitantly extends the offer to include her boyfriend.

Santana's hurried steps slow to a halt as she chances a glance at the other girl from the corner of her eye. Brittany is the first person to ever mention the other boy around her without referring to him as 'D', 'Dave' or 'Karofsky'. She knows that, even though the blonde clearly doesn't like him or Santana's relationship with him, she's still calling him 'David' because that's what Santana calls him and she wants to do it out of respect for the shorter girl. Though a part of her wants to hate at Brittany for making it so hard to be angry at her, she just can't. Instead the head Cheerio finds herself inadvertently relaxing in her presence, her walls down just enough for her to no longer be nearly as on edge as she's been since their fallout last month.

"I'll pass," Santana eventually says after shaking herself out of her Brittany-induced momentary lapse of judgment before briskly proceeding on to her car.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Brittany grins excitedly, so caught up in her enthusiasm that she reaches out and takes the other girl's hand in her own without a second thought, the act so natural and involuntary after a lifetime of friendship and intimacy.

Santana instantly freezes at the contact, looking down at their joined hands, but doesn't pull away. This is the first time they've touched since Brittany tried to comfort her after Landslide and she doesn't know what to make of the first meaningful physical contact she's shared with a person in all that time. Brittany watches her carefully, her grin faded significantly though she's still at least smiling, albeit softly, as she waits.

For her part, Santana is lost in the feel of Brittany's hand and she can't help but compare it to David's. Her beard's hands are rough and clammy and far too big, dwarfing her own much smaller and thinner hand whenever they walk down the hall together. Brittany's, however, are dry but still incredibly soft, her long fingers wrap securely around her hand without being too large. Past experience has proven that when their fingers lace together it's a perfect fit…with David, it's just awkward with his thick fingers. The urge to lace their fingers together again to regain some of that familiar warmth and comfort is so very, very tempting…but she somehow manages to shake those intrusive and unwanted (so she tells herself) thoughts away when she realizes she has yet to reply.

"I'll think about it," she says quietly, sincerely and with an almost _**affectionate**_ undertone.

Relief floods Brittany's chest at the simple declaration and she gently squeezes the smaller girl's hand. "Please," she states, neither a plea or a demand but a polite request, both knowing that, if Santana agrees, it would be more than just participating with a song and dance routine.

"I'll think about it," Santana repeats herself in the same tone as before, a small smile gracing her features as she _**finally**_ looks up from their hands to the tall blonde beside her.

Brittany grins at the sight of the perpetually angry Latina directing a rare, genuine smile at her. She hasn't seen that smile in months, a week or so after their shared Britney Spears dream in the beginning of the school year was probably the last time. As wrong as she knows it is, the knowledge that she hasn't even seen Santana smiling at _**David**_ like this fills her with a sense of smug satisfaction…on top of the giddy feeling of all those dolphins in her belly doing backflips and squealing in excitement.

The sound of gravel under tires as a car drives past them in the parking lot is just enough to bring both girl's out of the haze they've found themselves in. "I have to go," Santana nearly whispers, briefly squeezing Brittany's hand before letting go, both of their arms dropping limply to their sides.

"Okay," the blonde breathes out in understanding, not quite trusting her voice to say anything louder than that.

Santana looks around idly, almost as though trying to find a reason to stay or decide whether or not to explain why she's leaving so the other girl doesn't think she's simply just saying that as an excuse to leave. She readjusts the right strap on her backpack as she turns back to the blonde. "David's sister had a dentist appointment today and he had to take her. I told her I'd come by after practice," she explains after a moment.

Brittany merely fixes the smaller girl with a small, almost amused smile. "Emily told me about Katie's appointment yesterday," she giggles as though the brunette should've known that she already knew that. "Katie is one of Emily's friends, 'Tana," she reminds her upon noticing the look of confusion.

"I didn't know it was the same Katie," Santana replies after a moment.

"That's how I knew I'd be able to talk to you after practice without _**him**_ waiting around for you," the blonde continues.

As much as Santana would like to throw out a joke about Brittany being a stalker and continuing with this playful banter, she knows that she can't…she_** shouldn't**_. "I have to go…I told her I'd be over after practice," she repeats her earlier comment nervously.

"Practice ended over an hour ago, San," Brittany reminds the cheer captain, her smile falling completely.

Santana breaks eye contact to look at some point beyond the blonde's left ear as she finds herself unable to keep the honesty from bubbling up…as if the other girl didn't already know or wouldn't have been able to see through the lie anyways. "I didn't want to interrupt them in the middle of dinner," she mumbles, answering the unasked question, both of them knowing _**exactly**_ what it is she's _**really**_ admitting to with that statement.

"San…" Brittany breathes out, her throat tight in understanding with the vaguest edge of reprimand and sympathy laced in there as well. She reaches out for the other girl, wanting to just pull her into her arms and comfort her…make her realize that she's not alone and she always has Brittany to lean on.

"I really have to go. I'll see you tomorrow," Santana backs away from the offered embrace despite everything inside of her demanding she accept it. She refuses to get sucked back into that vicious cycle again where they're just friends and then they're sleeping together and then their emotions get in the way and everything goes to hell. She's pretty sure she can't handle another rejection.

"Santana!" Brittany calls out the retreating brunette, not knowing what she wants to say, but knowing she can't let the other girl leave without saying _**something**_. "Emily misses you," she settles on once she has her attention, nearly cringing at the cop out.

"I miss her too," Santana nods her head at the thought of the precocious little girl, still inching her way to the car.

"_**I**_ miss you," Brittany finally finds in in herself to admit, silently begging the smaller girl to confess the same because she can _**see**_ that this distance between them is affecting her too.

Santana pauses in her hasty retreat, fiddling with her car keys in her hand. "I…" she takes a deep, shuddering breath and shakes her head to clear her head. "I…have to go," she repeats herself once again, almost unable to bite her tongue and keep from returning the sentiment.

Brittany watches in dismay as Santana walks away from her for the umpteenth time, the Latina's slumped and defeated posture straightening back to its usual confident position. She releases a heavy sigh at the thought that she's starting to look like a creeper standing on the side of the road staring down the empty street. Before she even has the chance to walk off towards her own car, the sound of _Barbie Girl_ comes blasting through her phone.

"Hello?" She cautiously asks into the receiver, wishing she'd bothered to check her caller ID first.

"B, where the _**hell**_ are you? You were _**supposed**_ to meet me at your house almost an hour ago!" Quinn barks into the line.

The sound of the other blonde's voice causes Brittany to cringe at her tone, having completely forgotten about meeting with her friend. "I'm sorry Quinn, I was waiting for San and she got out late," she explains truthfully.

"You talked to her?" Quinn inquires, arching a skeptical eyebrow (that the taller blonde misses completely).

A ghost of a smile flits across Brittany's lips at the mere thought of the other girl's hand wrapped up in her own. "Yeah…I think she might rejoin in time for _Born This Way_," she can't help but give herself a mental pat on the back for potentially recruiting two new members, but she thought it.

"That's good news…Not get your ass home so we can finish reshooting the opening sequence of _Fondue for Two_. This needs to be done before your first episode at the end of next week," Quinn reminds her, a smile blossoming on the taller blonde's face at the mention of her web series.

"I'm on my way," she eagerly says before darting for her car.

* * *

These notes are harder than they look lol. So, I'm Kelly and I promised that I'd keep it short. It's soooo late that I don't evn have the brain capacity to think of anything to add now anyways lol.

Though she hasn't really started it yet, she'll try to cram everything else from this episode into one chapter. So, she'll have her own version of the "shirt locker" scene. Exciting, right?

Okay, I'm done now considering how I might fall asleep on the keyboard if I keep going lol.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 23 January 2012


	11. Stereotypical Cliches

**A/N**: Because so much from this episode has been interspersed throughout the last several chapters (from San and David getting together to the Bully Whip and Prom Queen storylines, et cetera) there wasn't too much left from the actual episode to go into. So I needed to add a bit.

**Spoilers**: _Born This Way_ and references to _Rumours_

**Warnings**: Strong language (Santana is pretty bad, especially early on), mentions of eating disorder

* * *

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Stereotypical Clichés**

**Tuesday – 11:50 am**

"You're _**sure**_ he didn't suspect anything?" Santana growls under her breath as she walks side-by-side with David on their way to lunch, her arms crossed angrily over her chest as she glares straight ahead.

"I'm sure," the jock rolls his eyes at her paranoia as he readjusts her backpack on his left shoulder. "If he did then I'm sure he would've made it part of the deal that you join this PFFLAG thing too," he adds reasonably.

Santana nods thoughtfully at his words, her posture and facial expression relaxing slightly. "It didn't occur to me that he might try to pull something like that. I should've seen it coming," she chastises herself for not expecting Kurt to get David to start up a club like that before agreeing to come back.

"I don't see how you _**could've**_ predicted that," David shrugs only for the Latina to wave his comment off as though it was a minor triviality. "_**Are**_ you going to join?" He then asks, deciding not to start an argument with her over why she shouldn't expect herself to be a psychic.

"Hell no," Santana barks out with incredulous laughter as she looks at her cohort.

"What? Why not?" David wonders as he abruptly stops in the hallway to stare incredulously at his 'girlfriend', having fully anticipated that she would be joining along with him.

"Ugh, bitch _**please**_. If both of us go it would look suspiciously gay but if it's just you then it'll look more like Alcoholics Anonymous …except it'll be for, like, recovering homophobes or something instead," Santana retorts.

"Or it could look like you were being supportive and open-minded," David counters.

"_**Yeaaaah**_, no," the smaller girl draws out snarkily with a shake of her head. "I'm not comfortable with that and Pixie doesn't care about me joining one way or the other, so I'll just let that be _**your**_ thing," she briefly elaborates condescendingly.

"Gee, thanks," David grumbles, almost a little hurt and disappointed that the other girl wouldn't join even just to help support him if not to help _**her**_ be more accepting of _**herself**_.

Santana doesn't get a chance to respond as both of their attention is drawn to the group of boys in distinctive Dalton uniforms brushing past them. She narrows her eyes as she watches them turn down another hallway and disappear before looking over at her beard.

"Tuck your tongue back in your mouth," she instructs the football player as she reverses their direction to follow the boys.

"What are we doing?" David asks warily having noticed the determined gleam in her eyes that always seems to spell trouble.

"Seeing as how I'm not aware of any Queer Eye Convention in town, I'm curious as to what business any of those warbling pretty boys are up to," she explains as the duo makes their way to the courtyard.

"Kurt Hummel's back at McKinley!" Kurt shouts happily from the top of the steps in front of them before he begins to go down the steps, the Warblers not far behind him.

"Aye Dios mio," Santana mumbles as she and David stop at the top of the stairs to watch the scene unfold below.

"You would think they should be in school or something," David comments from beside her, wondering if Dalton actually gave the Warblers a pass just to sing to a student transferring out.

"And it's a good thing someone _**conveniently**_ left a piano out here just so Burt Reynolds' illegitimate gay son could use it to serenade his boyfriend," Santana scoffs.

"This feels like a cheesy Very Special Episode of some lame TV show or something," David notes.

"Kurt got bullied for ridiculous, over-the-top grand gestures like this more than for being gay. He's really going to test the efficacy of our system if he's going to insist on being so…so…_**fucking queer**_," Santana waves her hand vaguely at the spectacle, sneering at the way the smaller boy flounces around and flaunts his sexuality and his relationship with another boy.

David is startled by the disgust in her tone and in her expression as she watches. He doesn't bother pointing out that her word choice isn't exactly PC and would reflect poorly on the Bully Whips and damage their credibility for being changed people. The reason he doesn't correct her is because he can see that her tone, attitude and verbiage aren't really even directed towards Kurt in the first place.

"I never took you to be the self-hating homosexual-type," David comments quietly so as not to be inadvertently overheard.

Santana's scowl deepens. "You don't know what you're talking about," she accuses defensively. "Just because I don't walk around trying to look like the walking embodiment of a lesbian stereotype doesn't mean I hate being…_**that**_," she continues but isn't able to actually _**say**_ the words claiming to be one. "Kurt is such a goddamn _**cliché**_ with his high-pitched voice, his lady face, high fashion sense and love of musicals and all things theater," she hisses under her breath, glaring one final time at the, _**supposedly**_, heart-wrenching goodbye playing out in the courtyard below before turning on her heel and making her way back to the main building.

Mentally slapping himself, David regrets even saying anything in acknowledgement of the other girl's fear and bitterness in regards to how she hides her sexuality in comparison to someone that lets himself simply be happy with who he is. "Santana…" he trails off warily, not sure how to go about fixing the direction this conversation is clearly heading in.

"Don't _**even**_ start. You hated when he got all pissy with you yesterday when he had to explain a reference to _All About Eve_ because, being gay yourself, he _**expected**_ that you'd get it. You hate when I _**jokingly**_ apply gay stereotypes to you," Santana castigates the much larger jock. "You're such a hypocrite to call me a 'self-hating homosexual' just because I refuse to get a mullet, join the golf team, speak in a deep voice and dress like a _**fucking**_ lumberjack. I _**know**_ who I am, okay?" She asks rhetorically, sounding on the border of hysteria, her tone fierce with denial.

"Okay," David readily agrees in hopes of placating the angry Latina, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not a goddamn dyke-y _L Word_ lesbian stereotype," she reiterates, mostly to herself.

This causes David to roll his eyes in frustration. "Fine, you're not a stereotype. That _**must**_ be why we're going to the cafeteria…so you can sit there and _**not**_ eat," he scoffs before wishing he could take it back the moment the words leave his mouth.

"_**Excuse me**_," Santana growls antagonistically as she comes to an abrupt halt, refusing to flinch or falter or otherwise react in a way that might lead him to believe he has a point.

Closing his eyes and preparing himself for the worst, David decides that he's not going to keep saying nothing as they stand there in the empty hallway. "As much as you complain about all these stereotypes and how you refuse to feel obligated to become one, you kind of already _**are**_ a stereotype," he explains his comment softly, hoping by making his tone less mocking and aggressive she'll calm down and understand his reasoning.

"What?" The head Cheerio asks tersely, her jaw clenched in barely contained rage as she waits for him to get to the point.

Swallowing thickly and glancing around the hallway for _**anything**_ that could provide an excuse to escape this conversation, David heaves a sigh of resignation. "You're a walking cliché of nearly every mean-girl cheerleader from just about every high school movie or TV show ever. You're bitchy and, um, you've slept around, you're popular and get invited to every party and you're secretly insecure as proven by the eating disorder and breast enhancement surgery that Sue made you reverse," he lists off the facts to justify his claim, trying to word them in the _**least**_ offensively way possible.

Santana merely fixes him with her best Head Cheerio Glare ™ and rolls her head on her neck, her arms folded across her chest with a look daring him to continue. Despite being able to practically see the steam coming out of the petite Cheerio's ears, David rushes to do just that in an effort to redeem himself.

"You have _**minions**_ instead of any real friends," the football player pauses as he notices a pained look flash briefly over her features as she obviously thinks of her damaged relationship with a certain blonde. "But aside from all of the bad stuff, you're also just misunderstood and you only lash out the way you do because of how much you're hurting inside. Your parents are never around and they seem to think that giving you money is an acceptable replacement for love. Deep down, all you want is for someone to see the real you and love you for who you are," he finishes before an awkward silence blankets them and he decides that he needs to say something to lighten the mood. "With the exception of you not being dumb with blonde hair and blue eyes, you're a total cliché. Seriously, there's a page on TV Tropes dot com for your exact character type," he says offering her a soft, slightly awkward smile.

"I'm sure there's _**also**_ a page dedicated to the closet-case coward jock who bullies other kids to overcompensate for the fact that, deep down, all _**he**_ wants is dick," Santana lashes out, eyes blazing.

David gulps nervously in the face of her unmitigated anger. "Did something happen yesterday? You were fine before Cheerios practice but you've been even more bitter and mean-spirited all day today," he wonders with concern, seeing right through her anger and ignoring her harsh comment.

"Fuck you Karofsky," Santana snaps before snatching her backpack from him, turning and stalking down the hall away from him as she seeks the sanctuary of the passcode-protected Cheerio locker room. The last thing she wants to admit, even to herself, is that she was lying when she told David that she didn't hate herself and that she knows who she is. She's too busy trying to be who everyone _**else**_ wants and needs her to be to find the time to figure out who she is for herself. Another thing she will never admit is how much David's little speech about how her whole life is such a cliché of the typical TV/movie cheerleader got to her. It hurts because, in the back of her mind, she can't help but feel like, if this _**was**_ a TV show or movie, she would probably be the villain…or at least a minor antagonist.

"Santana!" A distinctive voice calls from down the hall.

The door to the Cheerios locker room is in sight and Santana's shoulders slump as she closes her eyes and releases a sigh. "Shit," she mumbles under her breath before spinning around to face the other boy, fake smile plastered to her features. "Kurt," she greets the boy, nodding her head at him in acknowledgement, hoping that the other boy doesn't want to _**actually**_ talk.

"Look, I know our interactions thus far have been little more than trading insults and that this whole farce is nothing but a ploy to win Prom Queen, but I still want to thank you for making it safe for me to come back to McKinley. While your motives may be entirely questionable and without any real consideration for others, I can still see a genuine change in David for the better," Kurt expresses his gratitude while simultaneously acknowledging that he knows her true reasons for doing this.

The Latina can honestly say that she's so _**not**_ comfortable with this conversation. "Yeah, I guess you're welcome or whatever," she rolls her eyes, less than impressed with him wrapping up an insult in the form of a thank you. She'd rather Kurt never acknowledge her instead of feeling obligated to say something, despite trying to subtly imply that she is petty enough to only see how starting an entire anti-bullying movement would be in her best interest for the sole purpose of harvesting Prom Queen votes. As offensive as it is, she isn't about to correct him by admitting that, even if she _**did**_ care about Prom Queen, she still wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't something she genuinely believed in.

"I'm just glad you decided to use your powers for good instead of evil…for once," Kurt jokes with a grin as he comes closer to the Cheerio captain.

Santana crosses her arms over her chest and fixes him with a guarded look, her fake smile dropping completely. "Don't think this makes us friends, okay? Making the school safe for you to come back wasn't meant to be some bonding exercise or something. David and I will make sure no one bullies you, but don't think that it's an invitation to get all chummy. You don't mess with me and I won't mess with you. Clear?" She asks him in a defensive, almost rhetorical, tone.

Kurt takes a moment to look at the other girl, really _**look**_ at her. He is trying his damnedest to figure out what it is David sees in her that would cause him to be so quick to defend her. All he can really tell about her _**right now**_ is that she's on edge and uncomfortable, but other than that? The Latina is a fortress when it comes to her emotions and the slight boy can't seem to get a read on her.

"Fair enough," Kurt eventually concedes with a firm nod before tilting his head slightly to the side as he contemplates his next move. While he maintains his stance on Santana's generally abhorrent behavior and attitude, he still doesn't think she deserves to be the unwitting beard to a closet-case jock. If anything, it would only make her more intolerable if she ever were to find out.

"What?" Santana barks, beginning to grow uncomfortable from the way the other boy is staring at her.

Even though Kurt promised David that he wouldn't out him, that _**doesn't**_ mean he can't plant a seed of suspicion in his girlfriend. "Rumor has it you and David haven't slept together yet. That's some kind of personal record for you, isn't it?" He smirks.

Santana narrows her eyes, seeing exactly what it is Kurt is trying to do and, despite their little non-fight a few minutes ago, she can't help but feel a surge of righteous indignation rising up in her chest on David's behalf…not that she lets any of her rage show as she opts for a casual shrug. "We're taking things slow. It's…nice," she informs him, adding the last part as though it's something of an afterthought. She mentally congratulates herself on her skills at keeping up appearances.

"Are you sure that's the _**only**_ reason?" Kurt challenges knowingly.

The Latina almost laughs at the other boy's extraordinary lack of subtlety, but she instead allows her shoulders and posture to slacken and her hands to grip the straps to her backpack, feigning insecurity at where this conversation is heading. "Why is that _**so**_ hard for everyone to believe? Is it really _**that**_ far-fetched that there's someone that wants to be with me for _**me**_ and _**not**_ my body? Am I really _**that**_ horrible that the only reason anyone would want to spend time with me is because of the chance to fuck me?" She asks weakly, her voice uncharacteristically small. Despite her only voicing these questions as a way to make Kurt feel guilty for bringing it up, she can't help but actually wonder about their _**real**_ answers.

Any lingering feelings of smug amusement over the girl that's helped terrorize him over the past eleven years being completely unaware that her boyfriend is gay immediately evaporate. Kurt can barely choke back his guilt, for the first time starting to see that he doesn't really know Santana at all.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Look, whatever Lady-Face," Santana cuts him off as soon as she notices him trying to come to her with a hug. "What are you doing talking to me anyways? It's your first day back at McKinley. Shouldn't you be catching up on gossip with Mercedes or fan-girling over the latest _Gossip Girl_ spoilers with Rachel or staging a gel-ervention for that Muppet boyfriend of yours or…something?" She snarks, waving a dismissive hand in an effort to get away from the other boy.

That's when Kurt sees it, if only for just a moment. There's the briefest flicker of insecurity and vulnerability in the Latina's eyes as she tries to trivialize their interaction to get him to leave her alone. With that one look, Kurt understands what David had been trying to say in Figgins' office yesterday and why he was defending her in the first place. Now he can see that there's a lot of hurt hiding under that bitchy Cheerio façade of hers. The revelation is startling, to say the least.

Kurt nods at her unspoken request to be left alone. "I can see that David _**does**_ genuinely care about you," he offers her the only bit of truth he can in regards to her previous questions about the nature of her relationship with the former bully. "I'll see you later, Santana," he smiles softly, turning and walking away after she responds with a stiff nod of her own in acknowledgement.

Santana's body deflates as soon as she finds herself alone again, exhausted from her brief encounter with the other boy. She debates hiding away in the Cheerios' locker room during lunch or sucking it up and going to the cafeteria, sitting next to David and pretending that their earlier conversation never took place. With a sigh, she shoots the locker room door a longing look before turning back around to go to the cafeteria. The last thing she wants or needs is to run the risk of Sue finding her brooding in the locker room and interrogating her about it.

* * *

**5:30 pm**

Since his little spat with Santana this morning, David has been fretting over what is going to happen after she gets done with Cheerio practice. It's safe to say that he has no idea where he and the Latina stand right now since she didn't even speak to him at all during lunch, instead choosing to discuss Cheerios' routines with the other girls – and the handful of guys – on the squad. He's been so on edge that he couldn't even concentrate on the conversations going on around him with the other guys up in the bleachers during practice. The fact that every other stunt Santana's had to perform has had him cringing doesn't exactly help matters either.

Much to David's relief (and apprehension), Coach Sylvester eventually calls an end to practice and signals for Santana to approach. He's too far away from them to even attempt to eavesdrop, but their conversation is short-lived before Santana is barking at the two girls lagging behind the rest of the squad to put up the equipment before going in. Expecting Santana to head off into the locker room behind Coach Sylvester, David is caught off guard when the brunette instead makes her way towards the bleachers and swiftly makes her way up to steps to the boys gathered to watch their girlfriends.

Gradually the conversations around David die down once the others realize that the head Cheerio is standing before them, hands impatiently on her hips with one hip cocked to the side and a mild scowl on her face. By standing there, she is looking down on them in every sense of the term and her presence is at once menacing and intimidating…even to a group of burly male jocks.

"Leave," she orders them in no uncertain terms. Needless to say, the guys scramble to escape while trying to look as casual and not-at-all afraid-of-a-girl-half-their-size as possible. A few offer David sympathetic pats on the back and murmured 'good luck's as they pass him.

Once gone, the tension in Santana's posture seems to melt away and she visibly relaxes before taking a seat next to her beard. "You okay?" David ventures after a few moments of silence, feeling marginally more comfortable now that he knows she was only putting on her bitch-face for the sake of getting rid of the others.

Santana is well past the point of exhaustion and she brings her arms up to set her elbows on her knees and rest her head on her hands. "Sorry for earlier," she mumbles her apology, staring straight ahead at the field. "I was out of line and you didn't deserve that," she elaborates, sensing his confusion.

"I was giving you a hard time too," David points out.

The Latina shakes her head in disagreement knowing that she had said a lot of things that would warrant him calling her out the way he did, but she chooses not to bother arguing. "Brittany ambushed me after Cheerios yesterday," she quietly tells him, hoping to be able to explain what set her off _**this**_ time.

It takes but a brief moment before realization sinks in and David gains a sense of understanding on why she was being so bitter towards Kurt earlier. "What happened?" He asks sympathetically after a moment in an effort to get her to keep talking.

"The glee club is apparently singing Lady Gaga this week because the Jolly Green Giant hit the Roaming Gnome in the face and she's now considering re-chiseling her beak," Santana informs him with a mild snort of amusement.

"What?" David is compelled to ask, not understanding most of what the other girl has said.

Santana rolls her eyes in feigned annoyance, a small smile on her lips. "Finn accidentally hit Berry in the schnoz and now she's thinking about getting a nose-job," she reiterates.

"And this put you in a bad mood?" The football player is compelled to ask after taking a moment to let it sink in, not understanding how it relates to her attitude.

With a sigh, Santana decides to press on. "No. The glee club's assignment this week is 'self-acceptance' or something so they have to make t-shirts that reveal something they're ashamed of or wish they could change about themselves," she rolls her eyes at his intensely clueless expression. "Brittany suggested that you and I join in on this week's assignment," she cuts to the chase.

"Why would she think that I needed to join in?' David asks defensively.

"Because you're my boyfriend and she's didn't want to risk hurting your feelings by not asking you," Santana explains softly.

"Do you want to?" He asks after a few moments pass, trying to gauge her reaction.

Though briefly, her lips quirk up slightly to hint at a vague smile because she really _**does**_ love her some Lady Gaga. "Aside from all the drama and hostility in the glee club, I kinda miss singing and dancing up there," she confesses, knowing that the other boy won't repeat anything she tells him. "Do _**you**_ want to?" She redirects his previous inquiry.

"I'm not a good dancer," he shrugs with forced nonchalance, not really answering her question.

"Not what I asked...besides, you did just fine with _Thriller_ during halftime a few months ago," Santana calls him out, not buying his excuse.

"It was choreographed so we'd been practicing like crazy. I still felt so awkward and clumsy out there," he states quietly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands to mirror the petite Cheerio's position.

Santana fixes her penetrating gaze on the boy next to her. "But you still had a lot of fun, didn't you?" She asks him rhetorically, an expressive eyebrow arched up in such a way to suggest that she already knows the answer, which he confirms when his posture sags slightly in response. "So what's the real reason why you don't want to go?"

David considers lying to her before almost immediately brushing the notion away given how much trust she's already given him. "I just…I…" he trails off, shaking his head at his inability to voice his insecurities.

"Is it because you don't like Lady Gaga?" The Latina smirks in an attempt to break the tension.

"No, I like Lady Gaga just fine," the football player chuckles, relaxing somewhat as he turns to look at the girl that he's certain is the best friend he's ever had. "I don't like the idea of having my biggest secret written across my chest on a t-shirt for everyone to see and judge," he confesses in embarrassment.

"And you think _**I**_ do?" Santana scoffs, rolling her eyes at the perplexed look on his face. "If you think Imma be up in here with a shirt that says 'Lesbo' or 'Prefers Lady Parts' all up on it, you must be outcha damn mind," she informs him, perhaps overdoing the amount of attitude she infuses into the statement if his amused expression is anything to go by. "Imma lie, Bitch," she briefly explains how she intends to get around that little speed bump, smirking the whole time.

David can't help but laugh at how ridiculous she's being. "Okay, Ghetto Spice, what _**are**_ you going to put on your shirt?" He wonders.

Santana shrugs idly. "I don't know. 'Bitch' or something I guess."

David fixes her with a skeptical look. "Would you _**really**_ change that about yourself?" He asks with a disbelieving scoff.

"Hells to the know…but they don't have to know that. Besides, it would look good for our ridiculous anti-bullying campaign and our run for Prom King and Queen," she rationalizes.

"Huh," David grunts in thought as they lapse into a companionable silence.

"Come on D, let's get out of here," she instructs as she stands up, stretching her arms up over her head and her neck from side to side to work out the kinks from sitting in such an awkward position, especially so soon after practice.

"Okay," he nods as he stands up and follows her to go inside and wait for her outside of the Cheerios' locker room.

"So, what's the verdict on the _Born This Way_ thing?" She asks as they walk in.

David ponders it for a moment, weighing his anxieties against his enthusiasm. "Can I think about it?"

"Fine by me," she replies easily, having no problem with either decision he could make, before slipping into the now empty locker room.

* * *

**Wednesday**

Quinn breathes out a sigh, hating to burst her best friend's bubble as they stop at their lockers before heading to the cafeteria for lunch. "Look B, all I'm saying is that you probably shouldn't hold your breath," she attempts to reason with the other girl.

"Come on Quinn, I _**know**_ Santana, remember?" Brittany grins playfully at the shorter blonde. "I know you remember last year when we did Lady Gaga how into it she was and how much she worked on that costume. She _**wants**_ to do this," she insists.

"Yeah, and she also _**wants**_ to be with you and we both see how well _**that's**_ working out for everyone," Quinn snaps harshly but instantly regretting it when the other girl's happy expression immediately falls into a pout. "I'm sorry Britt, I just…I'm sorry," she cringes at her inarticulate apology.

"No Quinn, you're right…but this is a totally different situation," Brittany points out.

Deciding that it's useless trying to argue with the other girl, Quinn opts to try and understand what makes her friend so sure of this. "Have you even talked to her about it? I mean, things between you two-"

"I asked her before the first period started after…David left after walking her to class," Brittany cuts off the former Head Cheerio, hesitating on the other boy's name. "Santana said she and David were interested in joining us for the performance," she forces a smile through the bitter taste left in her mouth from using Santana's name in conjunction with David's.

For some reason, it doesn't feel right connecting the Latina's name to anyone else's but her own. Saying 'Santana and…' never sounds right unless it's followed by 'Brittany'. It simply doesn't work with David Karofsky in any way, shape or form. 'Santana and David', 'San and Dave' and 'Lopez and Karofsky' don't have _**nearly**_ the same ring as 'Santana and Brittany' or 'Britt and San' or 'Lopez and Pierce'. Don't even get her started on how _**nothing**_ can compete with how awesome 'Snix and Britts' go together. And Quinn can't help but agree.

"I still can't get used to the fact that Karofsky has an actual first name that people use now," Quinn scoffs.

"Considering we have a friend everyone calls 'Puck', I'm pretty sure you'll cope with the adjustment just fine," Brittany rolls her eyes in exasperation.

"I'm still working on not freaking out every time you roll your eyes or say something sarcastic," Quinn acknowledges, earning a careless shrug from the other girl. Closing her locker, she exhales deeply and runs a hand through her hair. "Did she say anything in third?" She questions, knowing that they didn't interact in their second class since it's the only one all three girls share.

"No, she skipped it today," Brittany answers nonchalantly.

"What? Where would she have gone?" The other blonde begins to wrack her brain to think of where the Latina could possibly have disappeared to for an entire class period.

Brittany laughs at the perplexed look on her friend's face. "Chillax Q, she was probably outside the East Wing exit with Brad," she lets slip to ease Quinn's confusion, pausing briefly when she realizes what she said.

"Brad? As in glee club Brad?" Quinn's face scrunches up even more puzzled than before when the dancer simply nods. "As in silent Brad?" She further attempts to clarify.

"That would be the one," Brittany softly confirms.

"Why would…What could they…How do…Since when are…_**Huh**_?" The other girl babbles before settling on the easiest question to ask.

Brittany's eyes dart off to the side as she breathes out a short puff of air, lightly blowing her bangs up before they settle back down. She returns her gaze to the shorter blonde, biting her lower lip in deliberation as she determines that there's no harm in confiding this one thing with her friend. Besides, out of all of the things she knows about the Latina that no one else does – which is to say _**everything**_ – this is a minor footnote and Brittany is actually involved as well so she does have _**some**_ right to be able to share it with someone else.

"San's Nana was the sweetest woman in the world but she'd had hearing problems for, like, ever. Way before we met you, like back in sixth grade, her hearing started getting really bad so San's parents hired this guy to teach her sign language so she could still talk with Nana. And, of course, since I was always hanging out with San anyways, he taught it to me too," Brittany smiles slightly as she recalls how much fun that time was…before it all got so complicated.

Quinn stares at her friend for a moment before furrowing her brows when she doesn't continue on with her explanation. "What does that have to do with why Santana and Brad would be sitting outside together?" She finally asks, resulting in a long-suffering sigh from the taller girl.

"Brad is the guy her parents hired to teach us sign language, Quinn," Brittany huffs out in exasperation. "We saw him again in the hall a week into freshman year when he was leaving his office," she shrugs.

"He's actually a teacher here?" The incredulous blonde questions.

"Yeah, he teaches ASL. Duh, Q," Brittany chuckles, shaking her head slightly. "His classroom is two doors down from Mr. Schue's Spanish class," she adds, smirking.

"It makes sense since he never speaks," Quinn concedes.

"He does outside of school. He's really funny. He can be mean sometimes and he, like, totally legit hates pretty much everyone in Glee…except Santana…and maybe me," Brittany corrects the other girl's assumption.

"Wow," Quinn breathes out, slightly overwhelmed at all of this new information.

"Yeah," Brittany echoes her tone, acknowledging that it's a lot to take in.

Quinn doesn't even know what to do about all of this and she decides to change the topic into more familiar territory. "So, you ready to film the first official episode of _Fondue for Two_ on Friday?" She wonders, excited to see their hard work really coming together.

"Yeah," Brittany replies as her expression blossoms into a grin. "Tina and Mercedes are totally working on some serious gossip to dish," she nudges her friend with a playfully conspiratorial look. "I feel like Oprah," she giggles, almost bouncing with excitement as she closes her locker.

Before Quinn can reply, a third person enters their conversation. "Fabray, a word?" Lauren asks in a way that suggests that she isn't really asking.

Quinn's brow furrows as she tries to work out what the other girl could possibly want before turning her questioning gaze to the taller blonde. "Go ahead," Brittany nods with an encouraging smile before getting distracted by an intimidating tracksuit skulking the halls. Her smile turns into a full-fledged grin as she's tackled by a Brilliant Idea. "There's something I need to do anyways," she explains, preoccupied by the plan she formulating in her head on the spot.

The shorter blonde doesn't get the chance to question her since Lauren is pulling her into an empty classroom. Her concern (and eyebrows) shoot through the roof when the last thing she hears before the door shuts is Brittany shouting 'Coach Sylvester!' down the hall.

Coach Sue Sylvester turns slowly at the sound of her name, her eyes narrowed at the familiar voice calling it. She has no qualms about standing in the middle of the hallway with her hands on her hips and forcing the student traffic to awkwardly move around her as she waits for the ex-Cheerio to reach her.

"Coach Sylvester," Brittany unnecessarily repeats the other woman's name once she is standing right in front of her.

"I am perfectly aware of what my name is Pierce. Is there a reason why you're polluting my existence with your presence or did you just come over here to bask in my god-like aura?" Sue snaps at the younger girl, her lips twisting into a particularly cruel sneer.

Brittany is momentarily taken aback by the other woman's hostility having never really been on the receiving end of it until this moment. It takes but a split second for her to realize that, considering Brittany didn't return to the Cheerios with Santana, Coach Sylvester probably was able to conclude that something had happened between them. Sue would undoubtedly side with the Latina no matter what. Not just because Santana's her head Cheerio, but simply because it's Santana. No one would ever believe Brittany if she told them that Sue can be fiercely protective of Santana at times, but this is the first time she's truly witnessed it for herself.

"Fondue…interwebs…Oprah," Brittany waffles nonsensically in the face of the older blonde's intimidating glare.

Sue's right eye twitches. "Fascinating. I haven't seen anyone have a stroke from this close up before," she deadpans, her annoyance palpable.

"Give me five minutes. Please," Brittany blurts out as her thoughts manage to regroup themselves.

Still skeptical, the Cheerio coach narrows her eyes to scrutinize the dancer before nodding almost imperceptibly. "Step into my office," she orders after a moment, Brittany remains rooted to the spot, her eyes darting from one of the hall to the door of the main office. "This one. You are no longer a Cheerio and, therefore, no longer welcome into the exclusive Cheerio locker room," she directs the teen to the main office and guides to her the office next to Figgins.

The blonde jumps only slightly when the office door slams behind her as the older woman follows her in, having spent the short walk wondering if the only reason why Sue was behind her was so she'd be able to, literally, stab her in the back. Hesitating, Brittany takes her usual spot in the chair closest to the door, though not because she was concerned that she'd have to make a hasty exit. Santana always took the seat by the window since she is left-handed and…Brittany's right hand has a death grip on the side of her chair too keep from instinctively reaching between the two chairs to hook her pinky with another pinky that isn't there.

"You get two minutes, _**not**_ five and if you're here to ask about rejoining the squad then I will throw you out of here so fast your head will spin," Sue threatens, having a little difficulty maintaining her no-nonsense tone in the face of the way the younger girl who shoots a longing look at the empty space between the two chairs.

Brittany shifts in her chair and composes herself before grinning at her former coach. "I can help the Cheerios gain some positive publicity before Nationals and it would take a lot of the heat off of you by showing that you're not quite the tyrant the media makes you out to be," she rushes out all in one breath.

"I'm listening," Sue acquiesces, genuinely curious.

"I'm doing an online web show now called _Fondue for Two_…kinda like Oprah but with fondue. The first episode will be up this weekend, but I can interview you whenever works for you," Brittany catches herself before she can start to really get into it.

"What makes you think anyone will even watch it?" Sue can't help but wonder.

"How could they _**not**_? I'm awesome," Brittany says matter-of-factly with the smallest hint of a smirk on her lips.

Sue appears to be pondering the request when, in reality, her mind is already made up and she is instead contemplating the power of a good rumor. "I'll do it," she agrees with a careless shrug. "Now get the hell out," she barks a distinct lack of venom in her tone.

"Yes ma'am," Brittany replies with a grin, bouncing on her feet and struggling not to hug the older woman before slipping out the door.

"Becky!" Sue calls out into the general void existing outside of her office without her very presence lighting it.

"Yes Coach?" The girl inquires as she enters the office, trusty notebook in hand.

"I need you to set up a meeting with Terri 'Honey Badger' Schuester at the Lima Bean this Saturday."  
"Anything else Coach?" She asks after making the note.

Sue taps her pen to her bottom lip for a moment. "Bring me everything you can about the defunct _Muckraker_ publication. I'm considering reinstating it," she instructs the girl, grinning wickedly at her brilliance and silently thanking Brittany for unknowingly inspiring the idea.

* * *

Some of the scenes ended up longer than expected so I didn't get to finish the episode in this chapter.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 11 February 2012


	12. Schadenfreude

**A/N**: So, I've decided to bring in those two nameless cheerleaders from the Trouble Tones in season 3. They now have names (_gasp!_). After far more research than can be considered healthy, I managed to get the actresses/dancers names so I can use their real first names…well, I'm about 90 percent sure they're the correct girls at least.

**A/N2**: I quote heavily from _Born This Way_, especially for the locker scene. Obviously I altered it some so it would make sense/actually be accurate. For the most part, their expressions and reactions for the locker scene are exactly what I'd seen on the show I just described them.

**Spoilers**: _Born This Way_ and _Rumours_

**Warnings**: Nothing that hasn't been mentioned already in previous chapters. I shouldn't need to warn anyone about the language anymore at this point.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE: Schadenfreude**

**Thursday – 7:40 am**

"You're in a good mood this morning," David suspiciously points out after enduring the pleased smile and relatively subdued temperament since picking her up for school almost twenty minutes ago. These are the first words that have passed between them since greeting one another.

"Seeing those 'Lucy Caboose-y' posters makes me far happier than any amount of Sharpie vandalisms could ever hope to achieve," Santana chuckles. "You should've seen her running down the hall to that message board yesterday when she yanked that poster down with both hands before turning and fleeing down the hall," she continues on, a satisfied smile on her features.

"I heard it was pretty intense," David responds nervously.

"She had tears running down her face and you can tell by the look on her face that this whole thing was playing out in her head in slow motion, probably with some ridiculous music in the background," Santana scoffs at the predictability of the former Cheerio. "But it was just a beautiful moment when I saw her face as soon as she saw the poster."

"You're getting a sick amount of pleasure from Fabray's suffering right now, aren't you?" David questions knowingly, simply relieved that she's not busy plotting something of her own…again.

"There's no word in the English language to accurately sum up how her suffering makes me feel," Santana smirks.

"Is that so?" The football player chuckles, deciding to humor his friend's good mood.

"Mmhmm," the Latina hums. "In Germany, it would be referred to as _Schadenfreude_, which is pretty much just a warm fuzzy feeling as a direct result of the misfortune of others," she explains to the other boy.

David considers the other girl for a moment before deciding, conclusively, that he's glad she's on his side. "Why am I not surprised that you would know that word?" He asks rhetorically with a smirk.

"Because I'm awesome," Santana grins, her expression turning mischievous moments later as she unzips her backpack, which is slung over her boyfriend's shoulder. "I almost forgot. I totally did those shirts for _Born This Way_ during lunch yesterday," she announces, proudly handing him the one she made for him.

David's brows furrow as she stares at the bold asterisk next to the printed word 'HOLE'. "I don't get it," he admits after several moments.

Groaning, Santana rolls her eyes. "Well, I seriously doubt Mr. Schuester would approve of the word 'ASSHOLE' being printed on a shirt so I figured I'd get a little clever," she shrugs nonchalantly.

"And replacing the word 'ass' with a star thingie is clever since you think it looks like an asshole? Wouldn't that kinda mean this shirt translates into 'ASSHOLE HOLE'?" He wonders.

"Shut up. I came up with about a dozen other ideas, but I didn't think you'd exactly approve of 'BUTT PIRATE' or 'I SECRETLY LIKE PENIS'," she scoffs defensively, not appreciating him mocking the shirt she deliberated over for a long time.

Sensing the drop in the other girl's mood, David quickly shifts gears. "Thank you Santana," he thanks her sincerely, pulling her in for a hug…a real one without any ulterior motives attached.

"Yeah, well, I's gotsta be on top 'a dis shit 'cause that just be how I roll, Playa," Santana jokingly plays it off like it isn't a big deal.

"Uh huh," the skeptical football player tries to keep from laughing. "That be how you roll, huh?" He repeats questioningly for clarification.

"What can I say? Imma baller yo," Santana says by way of confirmation.

David shakes his head at his girlfriend with a laugh. "What's _**your**_ shirt say?" He can't help but wonder.

"'BITCH'…duh," the Latina rolls her eyes at how obvious the choice was.

"I should've known," David acknowledges that he shouldn't have even had to ask. As they stop off at her locker he seems to become somewhat embarrassed and shy over nothing and Santana pretends not to notice and gives him a moment to regroup…or something. "Since you don't have Cheerio practice after school today, do you want to hang out or something?" He mumbles as she removes her backpack from his shoulder and puts it in her locker so she only has to worry about the books she needs.

At the question, Santana falters for a moment and shoots the other boy an apologetic look. "I sort of made plans with a couple of the other Cheerios after school," she confesses regretfully.

"Oh, yeah. Of course. I, um, I get it," David nods, trying to sound understanding through the lump in his throat.

"Trust me, I would rather spend my afternoon with you than at the mall with those vapid brown-nosing skanks," she tries to assure the other boy.

"Then why don't you just blow them off? I thought you didn't really get along that well with any of them anyways," he states having noticed that the only time he sees Santana with anyone from the squad outside of practice is during lunch or when the Cheerio captain is using them for intimidation or a power play of some kind.

"Cody and Jaimie are dragging me with them to shop for prom dresses," Santana replies, sounding more than a little uncomfortable at the admission. "I know you're, like, my friend or something…" she mumbles self-consciously, playing with the pleats of her Cheerio skirt, "but this is one of those things where it helps to be able to get input from other girls," she explains.

David softens significantly at the rare appearance of Santana's open and insecure side. "I understand," he offers sincerely before nervously reaching around to scratch at the back of his neck. "I guess it wouldn't hurt for me to go with some of the guys to find a tux or-"

"Absolutely not," Santana firmly prohibits him from doing so, her arms crossed authoritatively over her chest and shaking her head. "There is no way in hell you are going to let those Neanderthals influence what you wear on Prom night. _**I**_ will go with you if for no other reason than to properly coordinate your tuxedo with the color of my dress," she states rather than asks.

"Good," David breathes out in relief, not looking forward to the idea of shopping for clothes with his teammates. Before either of them can continue, the warning bell rings to signify that they only have five minutes to get to their respective classes. With a tentative plan set, they head off towards Santana's first class of the day.

* * *

**4:25 pm**

"Solid Cheerio red washes me out," the dark-haired girl pouts as she examines her reflection in the mirrors taking over the corner of the over-sized dressing room. Santana rolls her eyes at the fact that Sue insists the squad members stick to the school colors for the prom so, even out of uniform, they still look somewhat like a team.

"You look totally fine. Doesn't she, Santana?" The twiggy blonde girl defers to the squad captain.

The Latina draws her attention away from filing her nails to take in the pale brunette in the bold red dress. "You're so washed out it looks like you have some kind of terminal illness," she deadpans after a moment of scrutiny.

"See!" The vindicated brunette snaps at the other girl. "Maybe if I used white as my base color with red-"

"Then you'll look like a candy cane and people will try to eat you…and not in the good way," the blonde girl cuts her off, adding the last part as something of an afterthought as she recognizes how potentially dirty her previous statement sounded.

"I wouldn't recommend a white dress unless you intend to have your teeth bleached to the point where they practically glow in the dark," Santana shoots down the other idea. "Stick with the red dress and just book an appointment for a spray tan a couple days before the prom to let the color set in without having to worry about transference," she shrugs as she offers her own 'professional' opinion.

"You're, like, a genius," the brunette states, awestruck at the head Cheerio's fashion advice. "Right Cody?" She turns to her friend to confirm her observation.

"Totally," the blonde nods vigorously. "What about my dress?" She turns towards the other two after having waited patiently to finish passing judgment on her friend's selection.

Santana arches a skeptical brow as the blonde does a twirl, the act not surprisingly reminding her of another, slightly taller and more curvaceous blonde. "That bow makes your ass look fat," the other brunette saves the Latina the trouble of mentioning that herself.

"And look into a push-up strap-less bra so you don't look like you have the body of a ten year old boy," Santana suggests constructively…for her at least.

The blonde narrows her eyes at the other two for a moment before scrutinizing her reflection then nodding in agreement. "What about your dress Santana?" She questions the squad captain, nodding towards the garment in question still on the hanger.

"What about it?" Santana challenges her.

"You already helped me and Jaimie decide on ours and now we wanna see if we can help you," the blonde girl replies, not at all phased by the other girl's attitude.

Santana narrows her eyes into a scowl to hide her discomfort as she tosses her nail file into her purse and glances from the dress to the other two girls in the change room. "You want me to do it right here?" She questions with an arched brow.

Jaimie and Cody share a look before shrugging and turning back towards the slightly shorter Latina. "Why not? Both of us changed in front of you and it's not like we don't change in the locker room after practice or anything. It's nothing we haven't seen before," Jaimie responds nonchalantly.

A part of Santana is relieved that they haven't picked up on the fact that Sue's made it something of a personal mission to keep her out of the locker room at the same times as all of the other girls…but that doesn't mean much considering these two aren't exactly known for their brainpower. The other girl's words don't mean very much considering that Latina counts herself lucky that they didn't pick up on the fact that she was surreptitiously perving on them when they were changing. She can attest to the fact that, underneath that dress, Cody's body doesn't resemble a ten year old boy's in the least and that Jaimie's abs are a solid argument against her appearing at all sickly.

With a subtle shake of the head to bring herself back to reality and an eye roll to hide her insecurity, Santana stands up from the bench and unzips the back of her Cheerio skirt. She allows it to slide down her legs but intercepts it before it hits the ground, the ever-obedient Sue Sylvester protégé that she is would never permit any piece of her uniform to touch the floor. Without any hesitation, she then brings her hands up to the front of her Cheerio vest to pull down the zipper that's practically invisible unless you know it's there. Turning her back towards the other two girls, she unfastens and removes her bra before slipping the dress from its hanger and carefully stepping into it and pulling it up.

Not even a moment after she realizes that she can't zip the back of the dress without assistance and a gentle hand on her left hip causes her body to tense up momentarily. Santana pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she forces her body to relax as the girl touching her hip uses her right hand to pull the zipper up without even having been asked to do so. The Latina silently thanks whatever deity is responsible for blushes being undetectable thanks to the darkness of her skin tone before turning around.

"Well?" Santana questions the other two, an eyebrow arched as though daring them to criticize her dress of choice.

The other two Cheerios are silent for a moment and Cody is the first to break into a wide grin. "Daaamn, Seniorita. You be smokin', Girl," the blonde bounces in excitement, unable to find a single flaw in the dress. It has just enough embellishments to give it flair without looking tacky or overdone and the opening on one side is just enough to show off some leg but still remain tasteful in the process.

"Dave isn't gonna know what hit him," Jaimie agrees wholeheartedly. "You look super spicy in that," she adds, nodding wildly like a dashboard bobble-head.

"You totally prove that Satan really _**does**_ wear a red dress," Cody grins, giggling along with Jaimie and neither girl noticing the dark look flash across Santana's eyes at the use of the 'Satan' nickname that she's always pretended to embrace while secretly hating everything about it.

"Well, now that this is settled, we can be on our way," Santana tries to keep as much bitterness out of her tone as possible. The other two girls share a perplexed look at the Latina's sudden mood swing before shrugging it off as just another one of the head Cheerio's many quirks.

Ten minutes later finds the three girls exiting the second-floor store. Other people rush by them to make it to the elevator or escalator to the first floor causing a wave of confusion to wash over the trio. They make their way to the balcony overlooking the open area below, the sounds of a heart-thumping dance beat drawing their attention.

"What the fuck?" Santana frowns, her brows furrowed in consternation at the scene below.

"Oh!" Jaimie blurts out in gleeful realization. "Flash mob," she grins in excitement.

"And look, it's Brittany!" Cody is more than happy to point out, missing spending time with her friend since the other blonde quit the Cheerios. "C'mon," she urges the other two, grabbing Jaimie by the hand and taking Santana by the wrist.

Santana's reluctance is cemented by the short, sporadic pauses in the music for the name 'Barbra Streisand' to be said before the music resumes. That short utterance is enough to know that the entire glee club is involved and not just the blonde dancer. She pulls her hand from Cody's light grip and folds both arms across her chest in an act of intimidation and defiance.

"Absolutely not," the Latina growls in no uncertain terms.

"But-"

"_**No**_," Santana repeats herself firmly, cutting off anything the other brunette might say. "I don't care if you want to dance around in public for no reason…as long as it isn't in the form of some glee club field trip or whatever. If either of you go down there I _**will**_ remove you from the squad. There are plenty of JV Cheerios ready to take the place of either of you. We clear?" She questions rhetorically…they both nod anyways.

The other two girls share a nervous look as their squad captain stalks off before trailing after her since the music has already stopped and the group below has already dispersed. Over the course of the last two hours or so they'd almost been convinced that they were actually friends with the perpetually angry Latina.

"Why didn't Brittany rejoin the Cheerios when you did?" Cody asks carelessly, not noticing the warning look her friend shoots her.

Santana's back goes rigid at the inquiry. "I didn't ask her to and she didn't offer. We aren't joined at the _**fucking**_ hip," she sneers, choosing to ignore the mumbled 'not anymore' behind her. "We're done here. Don't forget we have practice both before and after school tomorrow," she says by way of dismissal before making her way to the mall's exit, not caring whether or not they leave as well, thankful that she took her own car.

"_**Seriously**_?" Jaimie questions her counterpart incredulously.

"What?" A genuinely confused Cody asks back.

"We all agreed on Santana's first day back as captain not to mention Brittany around her after she made Leslie run four miles just for asking if they got in a fight, remember?" The slightly shorter brunette tries to jog her friend's memory.

"It's been, like, two months," Cody rolls her eyes.

"I know but just leave it alone, okay?" Jaimie requests.

"Fine," the blonde girl groans in mock annoyance. "As long as you promise we'll never stop being friends like they did, okay?" She asks cheekily.

"Duh, C," the other girl laughs. "We'll always be BFFs," she grins as she points to her half of their 'Best Friends Forever' heart necklace.

"Totally," Cody agrees as she links her arm with her friend's and they make their way to the mall exit without a care in the world, their bitchy squad captain forgotten for the time being.

* * *

**Friday – 7:29 am**

Santana stifles a yawn as she gets her books together for her first class, trying her hardest not to just bury her head in her locker and take a nap standing up. She had to get up at 4:30 this morning to ensure she was the first one on the field for the Cheerios' 5:30 am practice. It wouldn't look good for her as captain to have some underling show up before her. Practice will officially be letting out right about now for the rest of the girls but Sue dismissed her early this time as part of her campaign to make sure Santana is never given the opportunity to ogle her unsuspecting half-naked teammates. Rolling her eyes at the thought, Santana knows that her early am dismissal means she'll be the one forced to pick up the equipment after tonight's practice. It worked out well enough for her considering that being alone in the locker room gave her the chance to pull on her white shirt for the _Born This Way_ performance during lunch today and zip her Cheerio jacket up over it.

Meanwhile, with an eager grin, Brittany practically skips down the main hallway before turning down one of the more deserted corridors. In a move perfected from all her years dancing, she twirls around on the tips of her toes on just a single foot, stopping with her back against the locker next to an open one. At the sound, the person behind the locker door jumps slightly and she closes the door enough to take in the other girl with an arched brow, starting from her feet up. The untied and improperly laced pink sneakers immediately give away the other person's identity well before she notices the all-too-familiar sleeve of the taller girl's light blue windbreaker.

"How'd you find my locker?" Santana asks, prioritizing that question above all others at the moment.

"Duh, I followed you," the blonde giggles at the obvious answer.

"When?" The Latina questions with furrowed brows, certain that no one was following her when she left the locker room not too long ago.

"Like, two weeks ago or something," the blonde shrugs, wanting to just get to the point of the visit, holding up a hand to silence the other girl before she could protest. Without warning, her mood and expression transform into the excited grin she had on when she initially approached. "Do you like my shirt for glee club?" She asks with a gentle smirk and more than a little pride as she unsnaps her jacket to reveal a white shirt reading 'I'M WITH STOOPID' and an arrow pointing up.

Santana decides to not to further question the other girl as to why she had been following her in the first place…for now at least. Instead she settles on a mildly amused chuckle. "It's perfect," she answers with a shake of her head at the irony of the shirt's message. "Check out mine," she grins, unzipping her Cheerio jacket and holding it open to reveal her own that reads 'BITCH'.

Brittany's smile drops into a reproachful frown reflecting her disappointment and her shoulders slump as Santana furrows her brows at the reaction.

"What? This is perfect," the Latina defends her shirt, self –consciously closing her jacket and wrapping her arms around her stomach to keep it closed. "Legend has it that when I came out of my mother I told the nurse she was fat," she shrugs nonchalantly with a half-hearted eye roll (at herself, mostly), moving her arms to cross over her chest so she looks more confident than with them around her stomach.

"Well…" Brittany begins, trailing off while rocking her head side to side as a way of silently asking the other girl 'are you kidding me?' as she begins to unfold something. "I made a different one for you," she informs Santana as she holds it up against herself, the new shirt reading 'LEBANESE'.

Reading the shirt over once briefly, Santana's face scrunches up in consternation before her eyes narrow into a slight glare. "I'm _**Hispanic**_," she spits out, sounding offended that the other girl would forget that as well as the fact that she is quite proud of her heritage and never misses an opportunity to flaunt it. As soon as the words leave her mouth, however, a look of realization – and _**horror**_ – passes over her features before she continues suspiciously. "_**Wait**_. Was that su…posed to be," she darts her eyes around to the straggling students filtering down the mostly empty hall, "_**lesbian**_?" She wonders in a lowered voice, overly annunciating the more.

Brittany tilts her head to the side in confusion. "Yeah, isn't that what it says?" She wonders as she looks down at the shirt…possibly to make sure she has the correct one. Her gaze returns to the Latina at the sound on an exasperated sigh and she quickly takes note of the unimpressed frown so she decides to try and elaborate. "When you told me all that stuff the other week it meant so much to me…" she trails off to look down and _**slowly**_ refold the shirt to avoid the eye contact as she continues, "to see you be so honest," she explains quietly before finally bringing her gaze back up. "Especially 'cause I know how bad it hurt. I was _**so**_ proud of you," she adds with a gentle and encouraging smile which, unfortunately, doesn't last long.

"Well, don't get used to it," Santana scoffs before continuing in a stern tone, "And _**certainly**_ don't even think about _**telling**_ anyone," she orders before turning back to her locker and and messing around with its contents in an attempt to look busy.

"_**Why not**_?" The blonde demands in exasperation as she holds shirt loosely in right hand, her thumbs hooked into the back pockets of her black jeans. She briefly pauses before continuing, her tone sounding almost antagonistic as she tries to rein in her frustration over the other girl's refusal to grow up. "You're, like, the most awesomest girl at this school, why would you try to hide _**any**_ of that?" Sincerity drips from her tone as she honestly struggles to understand why.

Turning from her locker, Santana hesitates before looking up from the book and binder in her arms. "I'm dating David now," she points out authoritatively as she stares directly at the blonde challengingly.

"It's gross," she points out assertively and with total conviction, never breaking eye contact.

At this, Santana's eyes narrow and she shakes her head in anger, tired of others shitting on her (very fake) relationship with David. "You don't get a say in who I date anymore," she declares in reference to them no longer being friends and inadvertently reminding them both that, at one time, they were very much involved in one another's relationships.

For some reason, the Latina's words piss Brittany off to an unreasonable level and her voice takes on an uncharacteristically condescending tone. "Why not? Because I'm _**dating**_ somebody? Because you're Lebanese and I think I'm bi-curious?" She challenges the darker girl, resisting the urge to pounce on her…mostly because she isn't certain if it would be so that she can strangle her or to kiss her senseless.

"_**No**_," Santana whines, her eyes taking in the increasing number of students passing, which still isn't too many given that relatively few classes are taught down this hallway pretty much all day. Her tone become oddly vulnerable and she sounds almost hurt when she continues. "Because I said I," she lowers her voice as an added precaution to make sure no one's eavesdropping, "… love you," she finishes that thought and leaves room for a dramatic pause. "You didn't say you love me back," she snaps back.

"Yes I did," Brittany argues, clearly remembering having said so.

"I had to coax it out of you Britt…I had to _**beg**_ you to get you to say it back," Santana retorts

Brittany's eyes dart away and she scoffs incredulously at the Latina's continuing doubt of how she feels about her. "I _**do**_ love you," she asserts sincerely. "Clearly you don't love _**you**_ as much as I do or you'd put this shirt on and you would dance with me," she states firmly, dropping the aforementioned shirt on top of Santana's notebook as she walks passed her, too frustrated by the direction of the conversation to continue it.

Santana can't help but turn her head and watch the other girl walking away. Unconsciously grasping onto the shirt and clutching it to her chest, she feels her chest ache as the blonde's words hit her hard. Inhaling Brittany's lingering scent on the white shirt (and of course she knows her well enough to have easily picked the correct size), Santana is silently willing to admit to herself that the problem has never been her not loving Brittany enough nor has it been Brittany not loving _**her**_ enough. No, the problem has always been with Santana's unconditional, all-consuming love for Brittany clashing lethally with how much she absolutely hates herself some, if not _**all**_, of the time.

With a deep sigh, she checks the time on her phone and decides that she has more than enough time to make a pit stop by the empty choir room before first period. She has one more shirt to make because she'll be damned if she's the only one kind of outed by these stupid t-shirts…

* * *

**11:45 am**

"I thought you were Hispanic," David mentions questioningly as he takes note of her new t-shirt as they walk the halls on Bully Whip patrol.

"I am," Santana deadpans before releasing a tired sigh and handing him over a new t-shirt of his own.

"What's wrong with the 'ASSHOLE HOLE' shirt I'm wearing?" The football player smirks as he eyes the one his girlfriend is holding out. She says nothing as she watches him unfold it and read it. "'HOMOSAPIEN'?" He asks, his confusion evident.

"Think about it," the Latina tells him, closing her Varsity Cheerio Captain jacket to hide her shirt from prying eyes.

"So, yours is a messed up way of calling you a lesbian and this is a messed up way of calling me a homosexual?" He questions after a couple of moments.

"Yeah. Brittany came up to me this morning before first period and she said some stuff that was just, you know…whatever. She made this shirt for me and-"

"You didn't tell her I was…" David trails off his panicked question as he glances back down at the shirt in his hands.

"Of course not," Santana scoffs, annoyed at having been interrupted. "I made that because I refuse to be the only one of us wearing a borderline gay shirt," she informs him, folding her arms across her chest and averting her eyes self-consciously.

The jock swallows hard as he considers the potentially revealing message should he choose to wear this in front of the glee club. "I want to wear it…but I don't want anyone to see it," he quietly confesses.

"Me neither. That's why I've been walking around with my jacket buttoned up all day," she admits just as quietly.

"Do we still have to do this Santana?" He asks nervously after a moment of silence.

Internally, she immediately knows the answer to his question, almost scoffing at the fact that he felt like he even had to ask but she decides to respond slowly to make him sweat a little. "Go put your shirt on…I still want to watch even if we won't be participating. We can sit up in the balcony since it's dark and no one will see us," she eventually answers.

The taller of the pair nods eagerly before heading for the boy's restroom to change before the halls get too crowded when the bell rings for lunch…in about five minutes.

Ten minutes later and the duo is settled in on the darkened balcony of the auditorium watching as the members of New Directions begin to show up. Mercedes and an ecstatic Kurt are the first to arrive with Mike and Tina not far behind.

Brittany and Artie are among the last to arrive. The blonde girl can't help but glance around at all the others, into the wings by the stage and even out into the empty seats. Luckily, her boyfriend doesn't notice her odd behavior since she is standing behind his wheelchair, a considerable distance separating them.

"Okay, is everyone here?" Mr. Schuester questions the group with an enthusiastic clap of his hands to get their attention.

"Not everyone," Rachel announces as she makes her 'dramatic' entrance, walking down the aisle towards the stage. "I spoke to the doctor and cancelled my appointment for a nose job," she proudly informs the group.

Brittany looks around at everyone else in confusion before turning to Quinn, who is standing right beside her. "I didn't know that was still a thing that was going on," she mutters to her fellow blonde.

Quinn smirks at her friend before asking the obvious. "Where's Santana?" Pointedly not questioning the whereabouts of the Latina's boyfriend.

"Probably off somewhere making out with Karofsky," Artie snorts despite the inquiry not even being directed towards him in the first place.

The shorter blonde ignores him and frowns when Brittany shrugs dejectedly with a sad look clouding her features. She doesn't get the chance to further question the other girl because Mr. Schue is making them get into their places so they can start.

Up in the balcony, Santana rolls her eyes at how hokey it is watching Kurt awkwardly sign 'H-I-M' during the song's intro. She glances at David out of the corner of her eye as the group below begins to really get into their performance.

"When did you tweeze your eyebrows?" She quietly questions her counterpart.

For the first time since they sat down, he uncrosses his arms so he can self-consciously bring his hand up to feel the smooth skin between his brows. "I uh…well…" he stammers, chancing a look at the petite Latina and finds her smirking at him in amusement. "Shut up," he grins, shaking his head at her gentle teasing.

Back on stage, the song is just passed halfway through. "_Don't be a drag just be a queen whether you're broke or evergreen. You're black, white, beige, chola descent. You're Lebanese. You're Orient_," New Directions sings. At 'Lebanese', both Santana and David turn their heads to look at the shirt Brittany made for Santana.

"Clever," the Latina chuckles to herself for not having picked up on Brittany's subtle reference to the song with the shirt. Leave it to Brittany to hide the meaning of the shirt behind a single word mentioned in a Lady Gaga song.

Santana glances to her beard to find him completely engrossed in the dancing on stage and she looks back down at her shirt. In the corner of her eye, she notices the flashing lights occasionally glinting off her right wrist, which she immediately drops down to her lap. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she begins to play with the charm bracelet hanging off her wrist and trying not to think about what it means that, despite having ended her friendship with Brittany, she still has yet to take it off. Better yet, she wonders what it means that Brittany still hasn't taken her matching one off yet either.

As the song begins to wind down, Santana returns her attention to the stage. "_I was born this way, I'm on the right track baby I was born to be brave…_" the brunette is almost convinced that Brittany is staring right up into the balcony at her on that last line before they repeat the chorus one final time. She shakes her head and tries to ignore the fact that she probably has the same look of regret and longing on her face as her fake boyfriend.

"Let's go," she tells David as soon as the music cuts out and he doesn't even argue as he stands up, taking one last look at the stage and follows her out, an idea beginning to form in the back of his mind as he watches a tall blonde girl cast her gaze up towards the balcony as she searches the darkness to see if there's anyone up there or if her eyes had been playing a trick on her.

* * *

**3:55 pm **

David stands in front of the door, sick with anxiety over the impending conversation from the moment he rings the doorbell. He wonders if he should've called first – forgetting that he doesn't exactly have the phone number in the first place – or if he's making a huge mistake by even being here. As the sound of someone bounding down a flight of stairs reaches his ears, he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and silently prays he doesn't get yelled at…or slapped. His last thought before the door opens is that, at this point, he'd consider this a success if all he gets is the door slammed in his face.

The smiling blonde girl opens the door wide as she opens her mouth to greet her visitor. Upon seeing who her visitor is, her mouth audibly snaps shut, her smile drops into a neutral expression and her brows furrow slightly in confusion.

"Hi…" David croaks, pausing to cringe and clear his throat. "Hi Brittany," he manages successfully with an awkward smile.

"Hi David," she returns evenly with a smile of her own which is clearly more forced than it is friendly.

Noting the tension in the blonde's posture and her white-knuckle grip on the door she's holding open, he decides to just cut right to the chase and get this over with. "I was wondering if I could maybe ask you for a huge favor," he says, more of a question than a statement. His eyes are closed as he braces himself for a slap or yelling or a door being slammed…none of which occur.

Instead, Brittany's incredulous eyebrows shoot skywards as she crosses her arms over her chest and cocks her hip towards the doorjamb – unconsciously mirroring the stance she'd so often seen a particular Latina take. "A favor?" She asks, her tone both disbelieving and challenging.

Once again David finds himself drying his palms on his jeans, swallowing nervously. "The prom is coming up and…" he drifts off, his embarrassment finally hitting him at full-force. "I don't know how to dance," he confesses sheepishly.

Brittany stares at him for several moments with an inscrutable expression. "You want me to teach you how to dance," she finally concludes, stating a fact rather than asking or offering.

"Please?" David adds questioningly, hoping that making it a polite request will help sway her.

"You want me to teach you so you can dance at the prom with…Santana," she reiterates, albeit slightly more specifically. She chooses not to acknowledge that her hesitance at the end was due to her almost slipping and saying '_**my**_ Santana'. Every one of her impulses is screaming at her to point out that Santana is meant to be _**her**_ soul-mate and that he needs to keep his giant, grubby paws off _**her**_ woman.

At the defensive and almost hostile look on the blonde girl's face, Dave's shoulder slump in defeat and he heaves a sigh of resignation. "I _**knew**_ this was a bad idea," he grumbles to himself. "Sorry for wasting your time," he apologizes sincerely before turning to leave, dejected.

"Wait," Brittany reluctantly calls out before he can get more than a step away. "Why me?" She asks once she knows she has the other boy's attention, rolling her eyes at his confusion. "I mean, why not Mike or, like, _**any**_one else to teach you how to dance?" She attempts to clarify for the other man.

David shrugs and takes a moment to reorganize his thoughts, knowing right away that he couldn't very well inform her that he'd seen her dancing during lunch and thought she was unmistakably the best one. He chooses to go with the next best answer. "I thought you would be the least likely to say no or slam the door in my face," he rolls his eyes sardonically.

The blonde regards the other boy quietly for a long moment before releasing a mild groan. "Fine, I'll teach you how to dance," she grudgingly relents.

"You will?" David questions in disbelief, excitement written all over his face. At her slight nod he moves in closer to her, resisting the urge to hug the blonde girl. "You have no idea how much this means to me," he breathes out in relief with a grin. "And I'd be more than happy to pay you for your time so don't-"

"I don't need your money David. You said yourself that I was doing you a favor with this so how about for now we just say that you owe me one. Does that sound fair?" She questions.

"Absolutely," the other boy smiles briefly before turning shy again. "One more thing?" He questions softly. Brittany quirks her head to the side before deciding to humor him and nod at him to ask despite the fact that she's already doing him a huge enough favor as it is. "Can we keep this just between the two of us? The last thing I want is for Santana to find out," he politely requests.

"Me neither," the blonde girl readily agrees, briefly flitting her gaze towards the time display on her phone. "So, did you want to maybe get started a little later this evening or some other time this weekend or something?" She questions, trying her best to get him gone before Quinn arrives to help her get ready for the first installment of _Fondue for Two_.

"Uh, later is fine," Dave replies, a little thrown by her seemingly abrupt and none-too-subtle attempt to rush him gone. "When did you have in mind?" He asks, not wanting to intrude on whatever it is she has going on.

"I don't know. Maybe around 7:30 or 8:00-ish...If you don't already have plans with Santana, that is," Brittany quickly clarifies, her stomach clenching painfully at the very idea of the Latina and the hulking football player 'hooking up' somewhere together.

"No. Not tonight. Some Cheerio bonding thing I think she said. I guess since it's their last weekend they can spend all together before the Nationals since the Junior Prom is next Friday and they fly down to Dallas for the NCA Nationals first thing on Saturday," he explains nervously, not wanting to hit a sore topic with the other girl since she agreed to help him…and he's also uncertain of the acronym he used and whether or not the 'NCA' is really a thing or if he got the letters all wrong.

"Yeah, the National Cheerleaders Association High School Cheerleading Nationals in Dallas is the biggest cheer competition in the country at the high school level," Brittany informs him as a way to both assure the other boy that he was correct about the NCA being the organization in question as well as attempting to gauge whether or not he's even interested. It's with no small amount of shock that the blonde is able to conclude that David Karofsky is, indeed, paying attention and not the least bit bored by the discussion.

"I've seen some of their practices and, um, cheerleaders are pretty badass," David acknowledges with a slight blush when he sees the other girl quirking a brow at him. "I'm pretty sure I'd shit myself if I had to rely on teammates to throw me in the air and catch me like that. You have to have a lot of trust to be able to work like that. Hell,…" he trails off with a self-deprecating chuckle and a slight head shake at himself, "…when one of the girls messed up the pyramid and caused Tana to fall off the top, I was half a second from falling over myself down the bleachers to check on her when she just bounced right back up and started yelling at everyone. That girl is indestructible," he mutters the last part to himself with a soft smile and more than just a little awe.

Jealousy surges through the dancer and she can't help but see red for the briefest of moments at the realization that Santana has managed to find someone that cares about and respects her almost as much as she does. With a deep breath, Brittany makes it a point to remind herself that this is a good thing and that Santana deserves someone that will treat her right even if it can't be Brittany herself. She ignores his affectionate nickname for the other girl because she's certain that if she were to think too hard about that then she'd completely lose it and start foaming at the mouth before attempting to rip out his jugular with her teeth.

"Well, the Cheerios' annual team-building lock-in lasts all weekend so Santana's not going anywhere until Sunday night and by the time she actually gets home she'll be too exhausted to do anything but sleep," Brittany says, remembering how intense and brutal the lock-ins are after experiencing them for herself during the last two years. As captain last year, Sue was even more demanding of Santana than anyone else…which is saying a lot, especially when Santana had Brittany by her side to help the whole time. This year the Latina has no one.

"I don't blame her. The only person tougher on the squad than Santana is Coach Sylvester," David nods in understanding, much to Brittany's admiration and chagrin, paradoxical as it may seem. While glad that he is able to respect Santana without being frustrated by her lack of desire for sexytimes, she is annoyed that the other boy won't even let her hate him over his piggish male behavior since he doesn't display any.

"Yeah, well, it'll give us the whole weekend to work on your dancing," Brittany states, leaving no room for the other boy to argue.

"Good…and thanks again for agreeing to help me with this," he smiles weakly.

"I'll see you later," the blonde simply replies, trying not to show her disappointment that he had no protests about spending the weekend learning to dance instead of doing…whatever meathead jock things he normally would do.

"Right, around 7:30, 8:00-ish," the football player nods back, pausing for a brief moment before turning and making his way back to his car.

For her part, Brittany allows a small smile to settle on her face once David's back is turned. She's genuinely happy that the other boy honestly seems to be interested in looking out for Santana's best interests despite being jealous that the Latina has found someone to replace her…and knowing that she is in no position to be jealous in the first place given that she has Artie.

Unfortunately, neither Brittany nor David notice the confused and intrigued blonde sitting in her car across the street trying to keep hidden while simultaneously watching the other two teens. Quinn is finding it very hard to wrap her mind around the encounter she just witnessed from afar. Brittany and Karofsky? The hell? She makes a mental note that, if Brittany doesn't mention it herself tonight, then she'll question Mercedes and Tina to see what they know. Those two girls are the biggest gossips and they're bound to know what the story is…if there's even a story _**to**_ tell. It's all the more convenient since they both happen to be the guests on the first ever _Fondue for Two_.

No matter what, next week is sure to have more than its fair share of drama as the race for Prom Queen _**really**_ begins to heat up.

* * *

Yes, I made 'Cody' and 'Jaimie' a toned down, clueless parallel to Brittany and Santana (I call them 'Jody' in my head). Basically, this is my way of explaining why any of the Cheerios, these two specifically, would join the Trouble Tones in season 3 given Sue's feelings towards glee clubs. They would've had to have joined on their own free will and/or out of loyalty to Santana and given that it's those two that we keep seeing and not a bunch of others (at least at first) then I think that there must be a tentative friendship in place…especially since they didn't stop going when Santana was outed.

Next chapter will finish _Rumours_ (and the train wreck that is Brittany/Artie) and then it's _Prom Queen_!

Random tidbit: As many of us know, 'pato' is 'duck' in Spanish. However, in Puerto Rico, 'pato' is also a slang word for a 'fag' or 'lesbian', though isn't necessarily meant in a derogatory manner.

**Important!**: I'm sorry this update took so long (and future updates might be slow coming for a while). You know how in action movies when the hero – or main villain – gets shot in the shoulder or arm and they just keep going with only a groan and/or a wince? It kind of makes it easy to assume that it couldn't possibly hurt _**that**_ bad, right? Well, just for future reference, let me tell you that that is complete crap because that shit _**hurts**_ and it will lay you out with the force of it alone…unless, maybe, you're on PCP or something (which, unfortunately for me, I was not).

Long story short, my partner at work, through a series of events that I'm sure would be _**hilarious**_ if my life was a sitcom, accidentally (I _**hope**_) shot me in the shoulder. I would be a lot more pissed off about it, but when my very hormonal, 6 ½ month pregnant pacifist wife found out and got to the hospital she punched my partner and gave her a black eye. It was epic.

My left shoulder is more or less shattered and is being held together with pin and a whole bunch of other things that have no business being in my body. This wouldn't be an issue but I'm about 80 percent left-handed (don't ask), so updates might be slow coming for a couple of months so please bear with me and this story. I've noticed dwindling reviews lately and I'm hoping this chapter will get the story back on track since it's obviously been falling short somewhere. Feedback is appreciated no matter positive or negative.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 02 March 2012


	13. United Front

**A/N**: Sorry about the chapter length. There is a scene between Quinn and Britt that got a lot longer than I intended but it's necessary in establishing a few things before the breakup that were never really explained on the show.

**Spoilers**: Most of _Rumours_.

**Warnings**: The usual.

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: United Front**

**Friday – 7:05 pm**

Not for the first time since agreeing to this, Quinn finds herself questioning what the hell she was thinking. Learning how to work the camera was the easy part. Trying not to resist the urge to stop production altogether is a little more difficult. It was hard enough for Quinn to wrap her mind around the ridiculous '80s throwback her friend decided to wear for her first 'episode' of _Fondue for Two_. The former head Cheerio also can't help but agree with Mercedes about how disgusting the aforementioned fondue tastes. All in all, Quinn thinks this whole thing is a hot fucking mess even before her friend says the unthinkable.

"I heard a rumor that Santana plays for the other team and I can confirm that rumor- it's 100% true," Brittany divulges with a nod as she plays with a long rope of cheese barely clinging to her bread square.

Quinn's jaw nearly hits the floor and her brain goes numb. Mercedes and Tina share a completely flabbergasted look.

"Wait. What?" Mercedes asks as any previous thoughts are pushed aside in favor of clinging to this new bit of gossip.

"Brittany," Tina begins uncomfortably, saying her name in an odd mix of a scoff and a laugh. "Are you serious?" She questions, not having heard anything of the sort around the halls of McKinley, like, ever.

The blonde in question narrows her eyes, equal parts suspicious and confused by their questions. "Yes," she answers before getting sidetracked by the appearance of her morbidly obese cat.

Quinn watches on in mounting horror as Lord Tubbington stomps across the table and shoves his face in the pot of fondue, pushes the vegetables off the tray as he sniffs around for something he deems edible before flopping down on top of the remaining vegetables and cubes of bread only to spread his legs and begin to lick himself. Meanwhile, Brittany is cooing at the overweight nuisance with Tina and Mercedes looking on in disgust.

"_**Sooo**_, you're just gonna let him do that?" Mercedes questions incredulously.

Brittany leans over to pet him. "Lord Tubbington's allowed to eat cheese because he's on Atkins," she explains, misinterpreting the question and paying no mind to the dumbfounded expressions on the other girls' faces as she turns back to the camera. "Okay, well, that's all we have time for today. Tune in next week for _Fondue for Two_. We will be dipping raw meat into boiling chocolate," she grins innocently.

Quinn gapes at her friend for a split second before turning the camera to a perplexed Tina, who just waves nervously at the camera for a few seconds before she turns it off. Three pairs of eyes turn to the 'hostess' of the show. All of them have so many questions that they can't quite wrap their minds around everything that's happened in the last three minutes.

"Raw meat and chocolate, B? Who are you 'interviewing' next week? Lord Tubbington?" Quinn asks the most benign questions that come immediately to mind.

"No, Coach Sue. She requested it," Brittany replies nonchalantly with a light shrug.

"Can we go back to that thing about Santana?" Mercedes butts in before the other girl can continue with some ridiculous explanation.

At this Brittany actually giggles at her friend. "It's not like it's a secret that Santana left New Directions to rejoin the Cheerios," she grins.

"Do you think that maybe we should reshoot that part so you can word that differently?" Quinn prompts her friend in hopes that the other girl will comprehend their bewilderment.

"No, why?" Brittany wonders, face scrunched up in confusion. Quinn turns to the other two desperately for help in getting the other girl to understand her concerns.

Tina and Mercedes share a look before turning back to the former head Cheerio. "Actually we have to get going. T has to be home in 15 minutes and I'm her ride _**sooo**_…" Mercedes trails off obviously as she and her friend make their way to the door.

"Okay, see you Monday," Brittany smiles and waves as they leave.

"I'm just going to see them out," Quinn says before following them, barely hearing Brittany mentioning that she'll put up the equipment. "Hold on," she instructs her classmates as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, Tina's hand on the doorknob. Nodding her head towards the door, she silently instructs them to step outside for a moment.

"Look, Quinn, this has already been weird enough as it is, so can-"

"I know it has. _**Trust me**_, I know," the blonde shakes her head as she steps out onto the front porch with them, closing the door behind her. "But seriously, all weirdness aside, has any serious gossip come to your attention that could be important?" She asks quietly.

"Regarding who?" Mercedes asks suspiciously after a few moments.

"Brittany, Santana, Karofsky or any combination of the three," Quinn says, hoping it isn't the last option.

"Yeah, like there's anything going on between Brittany and Karofsky?" Tina laughs in disbelief. She stops when she realizes that Quinn isn't laughing with her.

"Um, I'm sorry but what?" Mercedes can't help but ask as she realizes that Quinn's lack of amusement somewhat implies that there _**is**_ something going on with the blonde dancer and Satan's boyfriend.

Quinn sighs and decides to just tell them what little she knows otherwise they'll just speculate and, inevitably, there will be a school-wide rumor that Brittany is pregnant with Karofsky's love child. "It's probably nothing, but I got here a little early and saw him leaving right after I pulled up. Brittany doesn't know I saw him so don't say anything, okay?" She almost begs, knowing that it will probably be pointless anyways. She isn't comforted by the 'yeah, sure' and 'no problem' from the other two before they leave.

Upon returning to her friend's room, Quinn is caught off guard by the sad look on Brittany's face as she watches her cat try and lick the fondue from the fur on his feet and chest. "Everything okay, Britt?" She cautiously wonders.

"Did you notice how Lord Tubbington showed up as soon as I mentioned Santana?" Brittany forlornly asks in response.

"I guess so," Quinn shrugs, not having really thought about it and having chalked it up to the fat feline responding to the presence of food.

"He's never gone a whole month without seeing her and I can tell he misses San almost as much as I do," she sighs.

"I thought Tubby didn't like _**anyone**_. Every time I try to pet him he hisses at me," Quinn points out.

"That's because you pick on him about his weight and Santana has a little more respect than that. _**She**_ understands that he has a thyroid condition that makes it hard for him to lose weight," Brittany explains in exasperation.

Rolling her eyes when she notices the time, Quinn releases a sigh of disappointment at not having had the opportunity to ask about Brittany's on-camera slip…or Karofsky. "Look B, I have to go, but promise me that you won't post that video until I can come over and help you edit it tomorrow," she firmly tells the other girl.

"Yeah, fine," Brittany waves her off distractedly, too preoccupied with planning David's dance lesson in her head.

* * *

**10:30 pm**

After a painfully awkward attempt to teach David Karofsky how to dance, and maybe pump him for information on Santana, a freshly-showered Brittany is ready to call it a night. She is exhausted from performing _Born This Way_ with the glee club, her frustration with Santana, anything related to David and everything surrounding _Fondue for Two_ from today.

At the thought of the first installment of her internet show, she can't help but wonder why Quinn was so insistent that she not post it until she could come back and help her edit it tomorrow. Brittany, for her part, thinks that it's awesome already and she hates the thought of having to cut parts of it out. It doesn't need any editing. With that in mind, she goes over to her computer and doesn't hesitate to post it on Youtube. She's certain that, by the morning, she'll have at least a million hits and a ton of reviews telling her how amazing it was. Nodding to herself in satisfaction, Brittany shuts the lid of her laptop and goes to bed.

Meanwhile, email inboxes all across Lima are receiving a notification that Brittany S. Pierce has posted a new video. One of those inboxes belongs to one Sue Sylvester who, having made sure to be on the 'online social media' notifications list of all her Cheerios, former _**and**_ current, clicks on it almost immediately. Another of those inboxes belongs to Santana Lopez who, despite being at the weekend-long lock-in supervised by Sue Sylvester, _**still**_ won't get the notification until it's already too late.

* * *

**Monday – 7:20 am**

A finger lightly jabs into the head Cheerio's ribs. Santana jumps slightly, realizing with a jolt that she had fallen asleep standing up…with her head in her locker. She levels a glare at her chuckling boyfriend once she regains control of her senses. The effect is somewhat lost when she finds herself stifling a yawn.

"Wake up, Sleepy," David instructs her with a warm smile.

"I don't wanna. I am _**so**_ exhausted," she sighs, her body still sore and worn out from the intensive weekend Cheerio boot camp.

Before David can even reply, he's nudged away from his girlfriend by two wide-eyed Cheerios clutching a newspaper to their chests. "Is it true?" Cody breathes out with an odd mix of awe and skepticism.

Santana blinks slowly at the two Cheerios, not sure that the blonde one is talking about. "It's way too early for this crap," she grumbles under her breath in annoyance while David looks on in amusement. "What are you talking about?"

"_The Muckraker_," they answer simultaneously, both holding out their paper for her to see for herself.

The Latina shifts her gaze from the papers to the two Cheerios to her beard watching on in confusion. "'What blondie former cheerleader is having a secret midnight motel rendezvous with another big-lipped blondie?'" She reads, her brows furrowing in confusion as to what that has to do with her.

Both Cheerios share a look before turning their attention back to their captain. "The one above it," Jaimie clarifies.

With a sigh and an eye roll, Santana humors the girl and scans over the aforementioned line of the paper's Blind Items list. Her eyes widen and she skims over it again more urgently as she snatches the paper from Cody's loose grip. "What the…" she trails off, her face darkening with what passes as a blush for the Latina.

"So, is it true?" Cody asks again, genuinely curious, with a non-judging smile as she rocks back and forth on her heels.

Santana shoots her wide-eyed gaze up at the girl before narrowing her look into an affronted scowl. "_**Of course not**_! How can you even _**ask**_ me that?" She barks out sharply as if appalled by the implications.

"What's it say 'Tana?" Dave can't help but ask, insanely curious now that he's seen their reactions. Instead of answering verbally, he reads it for himself when she thrusts the paper in his face. '_What prom queen candidate is spending a lot of time in her closet?_'

"Exactly," Santana drawls as he glances up at her after reading it.

"I don't get what the problem is. You _**do**_ spend a lot of time in your closet when you're getting ready to go out," he scrunches up his brows, perplexed by her reaction.

"'In the closet' is code for being secretly gay David. Someone is suggesting I'm _**gay**_," she hisses meaningfully.

"_**Ohhh**_!" David blurts out in startled realization when she mentions that. "Why would they think _**that**_?" He asks, trying not to sound entirely paranoid.

Santana and David turn to the two Cheerios to see if they might have an idea. The two girls share a look once again before turning their attention to the couple. "Brittany has a new internet show where she talks about school gossip, her cat and melted cheese," Cody says by way of explanation.

David feels even more lost than before at the blonde's words. "She actually posted an episode of _Fondue for Two_?" Santana asks rhetorically, sounding almost hurt and Dave gives her a questioning look. "She and I started working on that together back near the end of February and I was going to help her with the camera work and editing stuff," she informs the three of them idly.

"Yeah, well, on her show she said that you 'play for the other team'," Jaimie says , getting right to the point.

Santana tightens her grip on the paper, crumpling it in her fist, sets her jaw and hardens her gaze. Dave immediately recognizes the belligerent edge to her demeanor and he doesn't hesitate to jump in to do damage control before she does something they both regret.

"Hey, stop and think about this, okay? You don't want to do anything rash that you might regret and, you know, maybe you should sit and watch the video first because those lines were probably taken out of context in the first place," he tries to get her to think rationally.

"You're right," Santana breathes out as the tension slowly leaves her. "I have to get going anyways so I'll see you later," she dismisses herself without waiting for a reply. The other three descend into an awkward silence in the Latina's absence.

"So, that was intense, huh?" He questions uncomfortably, almost shrinking when they level matching glares at him.

"You're lucky we didn't tell her about the one five lines down from that," Jaimie snaps irritably as she pokes him aggressively in the chest.

"Yeah!" Cody agrees with a nod and a deep, angry frown.

"What?" Dave wonders, thoroughly mystified as the dark-haired Cheerio points out the entry in question. _What football player is cheating on his Head Cheerio girlfriend with her former BFF?_

"How could you do that to Santana?" Cody asks him, hurt and disappointed on her maybe almost-friend's behalf.

"Especially since Brittany's the reason why someone posted a gay rumor about Santana in the paper in the first place," Jaimie adds on to her friend's accusation.

"I'm not cheating on Santana. I don't even know how this rumor could've even gotten started in the first place," David defends himself. "Maybe Zizes is trying to sabotage Santana's Prom Queen campaign like she did with Quinn's last week," he suggests in an attempt to remove some of the heat from himself.

The other two Cheerios narrow their eyes at Dave before sharing a brief look and turning back to him. "Maybe you're right," Cody concedes slowly and skeptically.

"But we'll be keeping an eye on you," Jaimie continues on without missing a beat, as though completing a single thought, as she pokes the other boy in the chest for emphasis. She and the blonde girl then link their arms together, turn and walk off.

David rubs his hands tiredly over his face. "It's way too early in the morning for me to have to deal with so much drama…and _**estrogen**_," he grumbles to himself before heading off to his first class, albeit half an hour early.

* * *

**7:30 am**

Santana Lopez is livid. Furious. Enraged.

Having decided to give her former best-friend the benefit of the doubt, the Latina decided to head into the Cheerio locker room to watch the _Fondue for Two_ YouTube video in her inbox in private on her phone. The results have her marching down the hall with a look on her face that clearly states that she means business and it would be advised that everyone move out of her way lest she bowls them over with the sheer force of her righteous fury.

Storming into the near-empty choir room, Santana immediately hones in on Brittany and she holds up the paper for the other girl to see clearly. "_**This**_ is _**your**_ fault," she accuses forcefully. "You told everyone that I play for 'another team'," she snorts incredulously, using air quotes for emphasis, "on your ridiculous melted cheese show," she all but snarls.

Several seats away, Mercedes and Tina share an 'oh shit!' look before turning back to the duo.

Brittany can't help but feel a flash of hurt at the other girl's words considering how supportive Santana had been of her idea for a fondue-themed internet talk show back in February when they discussed it. She soon manages to bring her focus back to the issue at hand. Namely? The irate Latina staring hatefully at her.

"Wait, are you mad?" The blonde dancer questions, brows furrowed and genuinely perplexed. "I mean, you _**do**_ play for another team. You were in New Directions and now you're only on the Cheerios," she states, wondering why Santana is so upset about that since it's not exactly a secret or something that she's ashamed of.

"Are you fucking _**kidding**_ me?" Santana snaps indignantly, narrowing her eyes so she can effectively scrutinize the blonde to try and tell if her lost expression is genuine or not. She knows that she's one of only a handful of people that can tell when the other girl is playing dumb or is honestly clueless when she says something…odd. Her shoulders slump ever so slightly and the inferno behind her gaze settles into more of a mild simmer than a rolling boil. "And you couldn't have thought of _**any**_ other way to say that?" She asks in exasperation, dropping her arms tiredly to her sides.

Realization finally starts to sink in for Brittany, the Blind Item Jacob Ben Israel suggesting in Saturday morning's _Muckraker_ meeting making a little more sense. She'd just assumed he'd been making a crack about Lauren needing to spend more time in her closet than most people because of how hard it had to be for her to find clothes that fit. Before she gets a chance to say anything, however, Finn comes stomping in to throw a diva-fit and yell at Sam and Quinn before leaving in a Rachel-esque huff by refusing to have rehearsal.

Brittany turns back to Santana to find the other girl fixing her with a look that's an odd blend of hurt, confusion and annoyance. The Cheerio captain doesn't give her a chance to say anything as she shakes her head, turns and walks out, the pleats of her red skirt swaying with each step…not that Brittany was watching. After Santana's departure, the blonde can't help but look a little regretful and chastised as she acknowledges that her thoughtlessness inadvertently hurt the very girl that she was trying to win back into her life.

Artie turns his chair around enough to look at his girlfriend sitting one level up on the risers behind him. "What was that all about?" He asks the other girl, his expression reflecting his complete ignorance in regards to everything the two girls had been talking about.

The former Cheerio is hardly in the mood to talk about it and she knows that there is only one reason why she'd even have to explain the basics of what Santana had been upset about. "Artie, did you even see the video I sent you of _Fondue for Two_?" She questions him in resignation, already knowing the answer but needing him to acknowledge it.

For his part, Artie becomes somewhat self-conscious all of a sudden. "Well, I meant to but I, uh, couldn't find time over the weekend. Sorry," he mumbles his half-hearted admission and apology. He pauses briefly to take in her saddened expression before wheeling out of the choir room…the others trickling out shortly after.

Brittany shakes her head, disappointed in herself for having expected more from him at this point in their relationship. She leans forward in her chair to set her elbows on her knees and bring up her hands so she can rest her chin on her fists. There is some short-lived shuffling next to her but she doesn't bother turning her head since she knows exactly who has just taken a seat next to her.

"You okay?" The tall blonde questions the girl next to her.

"I'll be fine. Finn's just being an irrational idiot like usual," Quinn shrugs off her friend's concern, knowing that her issues with her boyfriend will blow over when he finds out the truth about her friendship with Sam and realizes how big of a jerk he's been acting like. "Will _**you**_?" She redirects the other girl's question.

"Yeah. I just wished I realized what you were trying to tell me about what I said about Santana sooner and that I listened to you when you told me not to post it before you came by so we could both edit it together," Brittany quietly confesses, shaking her head at herself. "I can be so _**stupid**_ sometimes," she murmurs thickly to herself, turning her head down and digging the heels of palms into the bottoms of her eyes in an effort to keep her tears at bay.

"Hey, look at me," Quinn firmly instructs her friend as she wraps her hands loosely around the other girl's wrists. The taller blonde reluctantly obeys as she lifts her head, her eyes glazed with unshed tears. "You're _**not**_ stupid, okay? You might be stubborn and naïve, but you are _**not**_ stupid," she emphasizes, her tone leaving no doubt in the sincerity of her words.

Brittany nods subtly in understanding, a slight smile teasing her lips vaguely upwards. "Thanks Q," she whispers after a moment, earning a shrug to indicate 'no problem' from the other girl. "I just…I screwed up so bad and I don't know how I'm supposed to get her back after this. She hates me now and I don't think she'll ever forgive me for accidentally outing her like that," she quietly voices her concerns.

"Look Brittany, first of all, Santana could _**never**_ hate you no matter what," Quinn points out the obvious with a gentle smile, which Brittany reluctantly returns. "Secondly, I'm sure this is going to blow over because, honestly, the number of views your video got totaled less than half the population of the school," she informs the other girl, who simply shrugs carelessly at her lack of views considering that they're talking about something more important. "Also, for the most part, from what I've heard in the halls so far this morning, no one really seems to be taking the 'Blind Items' very seriously and that's out of the handful of people that are even bothering to read that section of _The Muckraker_ in the first place," she adds on to further ease her friend's concerns.

"So you really don't think I hurt San's reputation or anything?" Brittany questions for that extra bit of clarification to fully reassure her that she didn't ruin the Latina's life.

"Despite the fact that I think Santana's priorities are all wrong and she needs to focus less on her reputation and more on things that are truly important instead, no…I don't think you ruined her reputation at all and everyone will probably have forgotten all about it by the end of the day," Quinn answers the other blonde in the most long-winded way possible.

"Good," Brittany answers with a short laugh before noticing that the other girl has gone serious once more.

"I also don't think that this is more complicated than you 'getting her back' since, from what you told me, it doesn't sound like you were ever really together in the first place," Quinn goes on, holding up a hand to silence the other girl when she opens her mouth to interject. "It isn't solely on you to repair things with her and, ultimately, be in a _**real**_ relationship together, which I'm guessing is the goal here," she says, but her tone is questioning.

"Yes," Brittany nods in a small voice, almost afraid to interrupt the other girl's flow since she sounds like she's on a roll and she'll take all the help and advice she can get at this point.

"There is only so much that you, _**personally**_, can do to get the two of you to that point. The rest is up to Santana and while you can be there to support her and help her as much as you can, ultimately it's up to her to get over her denial and fears and insecurities. She has to move at her own pace. You can't push her to accept herself or come out if she isn't ready to otherwise you're going to end up pushing her away. _**Again**_," the shorter blonde explains, reminding the other girl of the point where things went wrong the last time Brittany tried to force Santana to do something before she was ready.

"I understand," Brittany nods in acknowledgement. "I just don't know where to start," she sighs after a moment.

Quinn bites her bottom lip as the pair lapse into thoughtful silence. "I think the first step should be you breaking up with Artie," she reluctantly suggests, knowing that it's something the other girl should do regardless of her feelings for Santana.

"Yeah," Brittany nods in acquiescence, not bothering to argue since she agrees about it being a necessity at this point. "You think that me ending things with Artie will be the encouragement she needs to end things with David?" She wonders hopefully.

"I don't know," is the honest reply after a moment of pondering the question. "But I _**do**_ know that not everything is about Santana. You need to break up with him for _**you**_ because he doesn't treat you well and I can tell you aren't happy with him," Quinn explains.

"You're right," Brittany sighs. "I only started dating him to make Santana jealous and while a part of me _**did**_ love him at one time, I think it was more about the idea of what being with him meant more than it was about actually being with him," she frowns as she voices for the first time what she'd only began to realize in the wake of Santana's departure from New Directions.

"How do you mean?" Quinn asks, wanting to know why she stayed with the other boy when Santana confessed her feelings when it was more than obvious that Brittany felt the same.

"My relationship with Artie was open and public in the way I'd wanted to be with Santana and I think I fell for how that made me feel rather than falling for Artie as a person or how he, personally made me feel," Brittany begins carefully, the fact that she is already discussing her relationship in the past tense despite not yet having broken up isn't lost on Quinn. "Yeah, 'Tana and I gave each other a friendly hug or sometimes kissed each other on the cheek, linked our pinkies, put our head on each other's shoulder or cuddled a little in public, but I wanted more. I want to be able to wrap my arms around her and hold her, really _**kiss**_ her, hold on to her _**whole**_ hand or pull her into my lap and cuddle with her whenever I want. You know, act like any other couple in love would act," she explains with a soft smile, getting lost in the simple fantasy of being able to openly display her affection – and maybe a little possessiveness – with Santana.

Quinn grins at her friend, finding it both sweet and amusing to hear her talking about the Latina in such a love struck way that she's never even come close to using when talking about Artie. "This is Santana we're talking about Britt. Did she ever even act like that in _**private**_?" She can't help but gently tease, finding it hard to imagine the Latina behaving publicly in a way that she likely doesn't act privately.

"Yes," Brittany honestly replies, a smug smirk forming at the dumbstruck look her friend gives her in response before she turns thoughtful once again. "Artie could be sweet, but usually it was in kind of a condescending way…like that thing with Santa," she snorts with an eye roll.

"You mean you don't actually…believe in…Santa?" Quinn asks slowly, her voice getting smaller as she continues as she realizes how dumb of a question that is.

Brittany shoots her a glare that clearly states that she's almost offended that her friend would even ask. "Santana thought the look on Artie's face was funniest thing ever when I asked for him to be able to walk. When I found out that she'd actually called in a favor with her father to borrow the ReWalk just so Artie and the rest of the glee club wouldn't feel like assholes about the whole 'Santa' thing, I made sure she got the 'bling' she'd asked for," she chuckles to herself before noticing how much more stupefied her friend looks now than she did a few minutes ago. "You okay?" She asks, concerned.

"The ReWalk was _**Santana**_? We all just assumed it was Coach Bieste," Quinn murmurs quietly, having trouble wrapping her mind around the fact that Santana did that without telling everyone about it so she can act smug and superior.

Brittany glances at the clock and sees that they still have a little over ten minutes before class and she bites her bottom lip as she debates further discussing it. "I was probably the only one that noticed that Santana was the only one that didn't go back to school with us when we left the mall," she begins, ignoring the other girl's guilty flush at the comment. "She drove down to the Cleveland Clinic where her father is the head of the Neurosurgery department to discuss options with him or something…she wasn't really clear on that. Anyways, when Artie's dad dropped me off at home after school I drove over to her house to see if she was home," she pauses at the memory, her chest feeling tight the more she thinks about it.

"Was she?" Quinn quietly prompts after a moment, drawing Brittany's attention back to her.

"Yeah," the taller blonde nods, her throat feeling thick as the tears start building up. "She got him to give the okay for Artie to use it for a couple of days after Christmas, but not until he made her feel like total shit first. When I got there she'd pretty much holed herself up in her room with Amy Winehouse playing depressingly in the background while she was curled up in her bed hiding under the blankets. I crawled into bed with her and we…you know…again for the first time since I started actually dating Artie," she explains with a slight blush.

Quinn looks at her with her brows furrowed in confusion for several seconds before comprehension sinks in and her face turns red at the mention of two of her friends sleeping together. "I'd just assumed that you'd started doing…_**that**_…together again after Rachel's party," she says, recalling her interpretation of the events the other girl described a couple weeks prior in regards to the extent of her relationship with Santana.

"Well, you assumed wrong," Brittany shrugs. "Anyways, she told me about the ReWalk and a generic, watered-down version of her conversation with her father afterwards…and then she lectured me about the whole Santa thing and taking advantage of how everyone thought I was really that dumb," she smirks faintly at the last part. "I think that because of everything her father said to her and how he made her feel, that was when Santana started to really resent Artie because, if it wasn't for him then she wouldn't have had to ask for a favor from him or go and subject herself to whatever verbal abuse he dished out," Brittany shakes her head as she thinks about the Latina's screwed up parents.

"I had no idea," Quinn breathes out.

"How could you?" Brittany shrugs carelessly to help ease some of the guilt she can see forming on the other girl's features. "I mean, she's obviously meaner than usual for a couple of days after her father goes off on her, but usually everyone just assumes that that's just how she always is," she says, understanding where Quinn is coming from in terms of not understanding the Latina. She chooses not to mention how her father was so pissed off when he found out Santana quit Cheerios that he actually blew up on Santana while Brittany was in the room whereas he usually manages to wait until she's gone. From what she gathered the next day at school, it had only got worse after he was sure Brittany had left.

Quinn is speechless at the added insight into the estranged member of their little trio. "Huh," she merely grunts in response. Before anything else can be said the warning bell sounds causing both girls to jump.

"Come on Q, we only have five minutes to get to class," Brittany groans, not looking forward to a day of having Santana glaring at her from across the room in all of their classes.

The other blonde nods idly, standing up at the same time as her friend before something from the paper reminds her of something. "Hey Britt, what was up with that thing in the Blind Items about Karofsky cheating on Santana with you?" She asks, trying to sound like she didn't witness the other boy leaving her house and mention something to Tina and Mercedes who may or may not have let it slip to someone on the _Muckraker_ writing staff.

"What?" Brittany blanches as she stills all movement.

"Didn't you actually read the paper?" Quinn wonders with an eye roll.

"I didn't think there'd be anything about Santana or me in it," she shakes her head.

"Well, look, Santana must not have actually read it either or else she would've said something when she was in here earlier," the other blonde attempts to calm her friend down.

"I really don't want to be around when she does hear about it," Brittany murmurs.

"It isn't true though, right?"

"Gross," the taller girl pulls a disgusted look at the question. "Why would you even ask me that?"

"Okay, I don't know how it got to _The Muckraker_, but I saw him leaving your house before I went in to get ready to film _Fondue for Two_," Quinn admits quietly as they make their way down the hall.

Brittany bites her bottom lip in contemplation as she slows her pace. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?" She whispers her question, just barely loud enough to be heard.

"Yes," Quinn nods, knowing that whatever the other girl tells her won't leave the two of them. She knows better than to think she can trust Mercedes or Tina anymore.

"He asked me if I could teach him to dance before the prom," she confesses, earning a surprised burst of laughter from the other girl.

"Seriously?" Quinn asks incredulously earning a stiff nod. "What did he say when you told him no?" She can't help but ask.

"I wouldn't know since I said I would," Brittany corrects the shorter blonde's assumption with a nonchalant shrugs. "I don't want to be late for class. See you next period," she waves before disappearing in the crowd, leaving Quinn standing in the middle of the hallway with her mouth hanging open in disbelief that her friend would agree to teach the boyfriend of the girl she's in love with to dance.

"_**Motherfu**_-"

* * *

**9:01 am**

Santana is quite proud of herself for having David trained so well that he'd met her outside of her class after the bell went off so he can walk her to her second period class. Her feeling of accomplishment has somewhat of a damper thrown on it by the fact that the couple have been getting more than a few odd stares and her beard has been more than a little antsy since meeting her outside of the class. Before she gets the chance to call him out on it, her phone buzzes to indicate a text. With a frown, she reaches into the left pocket of her Cheerio jacket to read it.

**Entry 6 on BI page. Is Tiny bedding Short-Bus Barbie behind your back? **

Her eyes skim over the text from Coach Sylvester several times to make sure she isn't reading it wrong before pulling her other hand out of her fake boyfriend's grasp abruptly and snatching a copy of _The Muckraker_ out of some unsuspecting underclassman's hands as they walk by.

"'Tana, what the-" David's question is cut off when Santana holds a hand out in front of his face to silence him as she reads the entry indicated in the text from Sue.

Clenching her jaw, Santana directs her heated glare to the jock at her side. David can't help but struggle to swallow back his fear at the look. His eyes briefly dart around to seek an escape but he doesn't get the chance to run when the smaller girl reaches up and grabs on to the collar of his Bully Whip jacket and the WMHS football jersey under it. She drags the surprisingly compliant boy into a nearby empty classroom and slams the door. Despite her manhandling him, he is still very much aware that he's a lot bigger and stronger than her and the last thing he'd ever want to do is hurt the smaller girl, even by accident…so he doesn't even try to struggle.

The students in the hallway, all of which paused to stare at the couple when Santana snatched the paper from another student, resume their previous tasks.

David immediately takes a seat when Santana releases him, his momentum directing him towards the first row of desks as she slams the door shut. She slaps down the stolen copy of _The Muckraker_ open to the proper page and jabs her finger down on the approximate place where the entry is, never taking her eyes off the other boy.

"Explain," the petite Latina growls her demand.

David gulps audibly, not even having to look to know what it says. _What lineman is cheating on his head cheerio girlfriend with her former BFF?_ He looks down anyways if for no other reason than to not have to look in her eyes. "It isn't true," he shakes his head adamantly.

"No shit, Sherlock. You're _**gay**_. But why. Does. It. Say. That?" She questions slowly, her fury filling the room almost as if it's another person entirely.

"I don't know. Maybe Lauren's after us like she was with Quinn last week," he tries, hoping that Santana buys it the same way the other Cheerios did.

"The great white whale wasn't lying about Lucy Caboose-y though," Santana sneers, her gaze continuing to bore into her beard's in an attempt to unnerve him and get him to slip up in case he _**is**_ hiding something. Who do we know on the writing staff for _The Muckraker_?" She asks after a moment, not willing to let him know just yet that she believes he has nothing to do with the rumor.

"It's a small school, we know everyone," David answers quickly, realizing a moment too late how much of a smart-ass response that would come across as being, flinching when she narrows her eyes. "Brittany, Jacob and Azimio," he quickly lists the three people closest to them…Jacob only because he's such a nosy little bastard.

"Brittany wouldn't lie about sleeping with you," Santana mentally crosses the blonde off the list and the football player easily agrees. Casting her eyes upwards in thought, she backs herself up until she's leaning against the teacher's desk with her arms folded.

"It could be Jacob," David guesses, not having much to back it up with.

Santana pauses to consider it, her body infinitely less tense than it was minutes ago now that she has something to focus her thoughts on other than possible betrayal by one of the only people she feels like she can trust at this point.

"No, Jewfro wrote that entry about me spending time in the closet. He'd be cleverer with his wording than that and he would've known to capitalize 'Head Cheerio'. Jewfro also shies away from using acronyms so he'd either say 'best friend' or 'bestie'," she shakes her head at the thought of it being the obnoxious busybody.

"Azimio makes sense," the other boy acknowledges after a moment.

Nodding slowly, Santana agrees. "It mentioned your position on the team and the fact that the writer has any knowledge about football in the first place eliminates the majority of those working on the paper. It was blunt and the wording made no attempt to be funny or make use of a pun. It wasn't the least bit ambiguous and it made a point to be obvious about whom it was referring. The 'BFF' was a sloppy attempt to disguise the writer as a girl or someone a little more cool and verbose," she's mumbling mostly to herself at this point. "Besides, Azimio hates me and probably blames me for you guys not being friends anymore and you turning into a pussy and agreeing to start the Bully Whips with me," she acknowledges.

David frowns, hating that Santana has been able to deduce as much since the last thing she needs is another person bearing down on her to make her feel like she isn't good enough. To suggest that her boyfriend is cheating on her is enough to imply that she's lacking something that would prevent that from happening.

"Well, look at you. Maybe we should start calling _**you**_ Sherlock instead," he chuckles in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere and erase the frown taking over her face.

"Funny," Santana rolls her eyes, smirking nonetheless.

"Did you want me to confront him or kick his ass or…something?" David wonders, not sure how the other girl wants to handle this.

Taking barely a moment to think it over, Santana straightens her posture and brushes off her Cheerio uniform as she steels herself. "No," she confidently replies. "We're Bully Whips and we have to be the bigger people in this situation. Instead of rising to the bait, we have to brush it off as the bullshit that it is and present a united front," she nods, mostly to herself.

"And about you being in the closet…" he prompts, wondering how she plans to handle that rumor.

"Same thing. I'll brush it off as the bullshit that it is and it'll eventually disappear," she replies.

"But it _**isn't**_ bullshit. You really are-"

"_**David**_!" Santana snaps sharply. "It's _**bullshit**_. Now take my hand and let's go," she hisses indignantly.

The other boy sighs, but does as he's told. He isn't exactly in any position to lecture the other girl about being in denial. They step back into the hall just as the warning bell sounds looking like the very model of the perfect, happy high school couple.

* * *

**12:01 pm**

Brittany takes her time at her locker, wanting to put off going to the cafeteria as much as possible to avoid the impending conversation that she knows she has to have with her boyfriend. She has no idea what she's going to say or even how she's going to bring it up in the first place since she's never really had to deal with this situation before. Any boyfriend she's had in the past she was able to break things off with under amicable conditions and still remain friends with them. Mike and Kurt are the obvious examples, though she's pretty sure that Kurt doesn't exactly count, all things considered. So lost in her musings, she doesn't even hear the wheelchair rolling up beside her locker.

"What's going on between you and Santana?" Artie bluntly asks his girlfriend as he rolls to a stop.

Jumping only slightly in surprise, Brittany stops digging around in her messy locker in search of her Spanish notebook. "Nothing," she answers openly and honestly, not sure if she's ready to do this.

The other boy finds himself staring at her locker door instead of the former cheerleader and Brittany, somehow, both wishes he would look at her but is paradoxically glad that he isn't. "Well, that doesn't sound like nothing. It sounds like something, which is almost always more than nothing," he explains in a way that doesn't really explain anything.

Scoffing out a light, incredulous chuckle, Brittany shakes her head as she tries and fails to decipher what he's trying to say. "Calm down, Artie," she tells him with a relaxed smile.

"If it's 'nothing', like you said, then what was that this morning in the choir room?" He questions her in an accusing tone.

At this the blonde rolls her eyes in annoyance since Santana's random appearance and outburst should be pretty self-explanatory if he knew the context. "You would know if you'd taken the three minutes required to watch my internet show from Friday," she can't help but snap at him, catching the other boy slightly off-guard with her outburst, not used to seeing her anything but happy and carefree.

Artie looks at her for several moments, as if waiting for her to switch her personality back to the smiling, innocent girl from before the initial fallout with Santana…back to the girl he _**wants**_ her to be. "Are you cheating on me with her?" He asks when it becomes apparent that the blonde won't be changing back any time soon.

Brittany can't help but feel the swell of righteous indignation in her chest at her refusal to continue acting like the naïve simpleton he thought she was when they first started going out. If he wants her to play that game then she can humor him a little longer…as long as she can bruise his ego in the process.

"No, of course not. I mean, I _**can't**_," Brittany answers his question as she closes her locker and turns to him, giving the other boy her undivided attention. "She's a _**girl**_. Fooling around with her isn't cheating," she informs him in an obvious tone and she can almost physically see his ego dropping down a few pegs at the revelation. "It's just friends talking with their tongues super close," she finishes with a slight shrug.

"Who told you that?" Artie reluctantly asks her, looking significantly paler now than he did just moments ago

"Santana," Brittany rolls her eyes, the 'duh' is unspoken, but heavily implied. She revels in the other boys exponentially increasing frustration, glad to see that he's feeling the same thing she does any time she tries to hold a conversation with him.

"Don't you see that she's manipulating you?" Artie states in an attempt to see what he thinks is obvious.

Brittany can feel her own hackles rising at his accusation against Santana, but she continues to push him in hopes that he realizes that she's only acting like this as a test. He's been told outright that she's one of the smartest students in the school so he should know better than to keep buying into her 'dumb blonde' façade. It hurts that he'd rather her be completely clueless and think that she's easily manipulated than believe that she can actually think for herself and make her own decisions.

"That's not cheating either. She told me that," she answers back flippantly, though still watching carefully for any signs of realization on his part…also hating how he, evidently, believes Santana thinks as little of her as he apparently does.

"Do you see what's going on here?" The other boy almost growls out, his tone increasingly impatient. "You're the hottest girl in this school and I wear saddle shoes on legs that don't work. This shouldn't be happening," he looks away and Brittany takes the opportunity to rolls her eyes, unable to believe he's actually _**pouting**_ right now. "_**Not**_ because I'm in a wheelchair," he begins as he looks back at her, "but because I'm obsessed with Angry Birds and my mom cuts my hair," he finishes with a pathetic sigh, feeling incredibly sorry for himself and his situation.

Brittany folds her arms across her chest and stares at him, allowing her dimwitted act to slowly drop as she waits for him to continue. She hates that he would dare to accuse Santana of manipulating her by taking advantage of Brittany's supposed naiveté, which the Latina knows better than anyone isn't real, and then turn around and try to do just that by pulling this self-pitying act of his own. So, she waits for him to dig himself a little deeper before she says anything.

"It's hard enough for me to believe that this is real. If I know that you spend even a _**little**_ time sharing yourself with someone else, that there's _**one**_ other person in your life that can provide for you things that _**I'm**_ supposed to provide," Artie shakes his head melodramatically, "it's just too much for me to take," he breathes out softly, pain written across his features at the thought of his girlfriend seeing someone behind his back the whole time they've been together. "And _**Santana**_ knows that. She's taking advantage of it to break us up," he finishes his diatribe with an accusatory tone and a darkened expression.

Brittany has heard enough at this point, just now noticing that she's clenched onto the straps of her backpack with a painfully tight grip. "No! Everybody thinks she's a bad person, but she's not," she defends the Latina adamantly as she slowly lets go of the straps to regain feeling in her fingers. "You don't know the first thing about her or our relationship," she snaps, her earlier conversation with Quinn still fresh in her mind from when she was telling the other blonde about what Santana had to deal with in order to have her father sign off on allowing Artie use of the ReWalk during Christmas. She is well aware that if anyone knew a fraction of the Santana that _**she**_ knows – the _**real**_ Santana – then their entire concept of the Latina would be shot to hell. The real Santana is a far better person than anyone else in this school…and a lot better than anyone would ever think to give her credit for.

Case in point: Artie, who is less than convinced of the truth in the other girl's words. "God, Brittany, why are you so stupid?" He scoffs in exasperation, still convinced of her perpetual gullibility despite the mountain of evidence to the contrary.

Brittany's face falls completely when he looks away and sighs, unwilling to see her reaction to his thoughtless words. "You were one of the only people at this school that never called me that but, unlike them, you at least should've known better," she sniffles, hating that she doesn't sound half as firm and chastising and she would like.

"Britt-"

"_**No**_!" The dancer snaps, shaking her head at any half-assed attempt to console her or insist that he _didn't mean it_ as her tears of hurt quickly morph into those of anger. "I've tried so hard to be myself around you, but any time I show the slightest hint of self-awareness you look at me like I'm some sort of mythical cryptid that you've only read about online on one of those nerdy websites you frequent so much. You have no idea how it makes me feel to know that the only reasons why you even liked me in the first place were because I'm hot and you thought I was _**stupid**_," she spits out that last word like a curse.

"No, that's not-"

"Yes, it _**is**_ true," Brittany interrupts, knowing exactly what he was going to say. "You thought you could manipulate me and control me and the only reason why you're getting so indignant now has nothing to do with you finding out that I'd been with Santana while we were together and it has everything to do with your bruised ego over the realization that you had no control over me in the first place. It was a decision _**I**_ made because _**I**_ wanted to sleep with her and, just so you know, _**I**_ had to convince _**her**_ because she didn't want to risk me regretting cheating on you," she bitterly informs him, months of pent-up resentment that she didn't even know she was harboring finally being released.

"What?" Artie manages to choke out, eyes wide.

"She and I haven't slept together since before _Landslide_ and we've barely spoken since she rejoined the Cheerios. Wanna know why?" She asks him rhetorically and he simply gapes in response. "Because she finally grew the balls to tell me how she felt, but she was too afraid of what other people would say so I chose _**you**_. I made the mistake of thinking that I would be happier in a relationship that I was able to openly show affection but I didn't think to factor in that you were only in it because of how it made _**you**_ look to be dating the 'hottest girl in this school'," she finishes tearfully.

Brittany takes several deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. She won't tell him how she cringes when he refers to her as 'hot' because it sounds so hollow in comparison to Santana, who has _**never**_ referred to her as such. No, the Latina has always told her she's 'beautiful' or 'gorgeous' or anything else infinitely more intimate than what the jocks have grunted at them as they've walked by in their Cheerio skirts. Another thing she won't tell him, though she's fairly certain that it's all but implied at this point, is how much she regrets choosing him. Seeing how much Santana is struggling with herself and her insecurities is more than enough proof of the affect her rejection had on the other girl. If she could take it all back and redo that moment in time, she would've chosen differently so she would be able to stand by her side and help her accept herself rather than being stuck on the sidelines and forced watch the other girl slowly self-destruct.

"But, what happened to her motto about how sex isn't dating?" Artie can't help but ask, somehow unable to take the hint that he's completely ignorant in terms of all things Santana and/or Brittany.

For a moment, Brittany wonders if he's been dealt a blow to the head recently for that is the only reason she can fathom that would explain how he could think that there is any reason to continue a conversation. She hopes that he doesn't honestly believe that she and Santana really slept around _**that**_ much…but she's fairly certain that he does.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe she only said that because she wasn't ready to accept the reality of what was going on between the two of us at the time?" Brittany asks him slowly after carefully selecting her words, not willing to say anything outright so as not to totally expose the Latina. Artie gives her a blank stare, his brain more than a little fried at how much had been thrown at him in such a short amount of time. The blonde shakes her head in dismay. "Ugh, maybe I _**am**_ stupid after all," she sighs after a moment of silence, second-guessing every decision she's made so far this school year.

With a final look at the boy in the wheelchair, Brittany shakes her head before turning and walking away, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. Unbeknownst to either of them, a certain Cheerio coach's lackey witnessed the whole thing from down the hall. She doesn't hesitate to scurry off to the cafeteria.

* * *

**Cafeteria**

Bored is an understatement as far as describing how Santana is feeling goes. The majority of the table is discussing the upcoming prom and she couldn't possibly care less than what she already does. She can understand that the only reason why the others are excited is because they're going with someone they actually care about. While she's willing to admit that she and David have formed something of a friendship and that she cares about what happens to him, she is less than thrilled about the prospect of attending a dance with a boy that is only marginally better than _**Finn**_competent in terms of dance ability.

So, with little else to focus on than the clock above the entrance to the cafeteria, it's no surprise that Santana is the first person at the table to notice Becky walking in and making a beeline for the Cheerio table. Santana sits up straight knowing that the other girl is coming to speak to her specifically since she's had her gaze fixed on the head Cheerio since stepping in. The Latina is almost afraid to be summoned to Sue's office to endure another one of the coach's insane tirades.

Becky takes a tentative step to the squad captain before leaning in and cupping her hands around the darker girl's ear to avoid being overheard. "Artie called Brittany stupid by her locker. They argued and she left. She looked like she was crying," she quickly explains.

One thing can be said for Becky Johnson and it's that the girl is very too the point. She is quick to state her business without waffling too much or trying to work her way up to saying what she needs to say. Santana's always respected that about the other girl…never more so than right now.

Despite everything currently going on between her and Brittany, Santana still feels that same instinct to defend, protect and comfort the other girl. So, within moments of Becky delivering the news, Santana is abruptly pushes her chair back noisily and gets to her feet so she can make a quick exit. She turns her questioning gaze to Sue's sidekick.

"The choir room I think," Becky answers the unasked question of where Brittany seemed to be headed when she walked away from Artie.

"Thanks," Santana nods gratefully before taking her bottle of Master Cleanse and her backpack that David is holding out for her. She shoots him a quick smile before darting off. Becky takes the newly vacated seat.

"So, what are we talking about?" She asks the perplexed group with a smile.

"Prom," David answers on everyone behalf, still trying to process the last 15 seconds. He at least has a vague idea about who his girlfriend went to check up on and he hopes everything turns out okay. With a vague smile, he listens intently as Becky describes her prom dress to the assembled Cheerios at the table.

* * *

**Choir Room**

Peeking in to the uncharacteristically empty room, Santana quickly spots the subject of her search sitting in the same chair she'd been in earlier that morning. She knocks gently on the open door to announce her presence without startling the blonde.

"Hey," Santana timidly greets with a weak smile.

"What are you doing here?" Brittany asks, mumbling as she sits hunched over with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her fists, her tone is simply mildly curious and not accusatory.

The Latina hesitates for a moment before making her way into the room, taking note that Brad isn't there for a change. "Becky saw what happened between you and Wh- Artie," she corrects herself with a cringe, not wanting to start things off on the wrong foot so soon into this encounter. "She came to get me as soon as she saw you walk off," she quietly finishes her explanation, not wanting to speak too loud and risk ruining the tentative peace between them.

"Oh," Brittany says simply, merely acknowledging that she heard the other girl and not making any further effort to push a conversation…she thinks she's had her fill of that for one day. She'd like someone else to go through the effort for once, especially if that person is Santana.

"Are you okay?" The darker girl asks as she gets closer to her blonde counterpart, who simply shrugs. "You want me to go all Lima Heights on him and push him down a flight of stairs?" She tries again, hoping for some kind of reaction. That earns a smile, which in turn brings a grin to the Latina's face.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," Brittany quietly answers through her smile. Both girls visibly relax as they physically feel a majority of the tension leaving the room. The smaller girl shyly points to the vacant chair on Brittany's right side and she nods her consent, relieved as Santana sits beside her close enough that she can feel the warmth radiating off of the other girl.

"You aren't stupid," Santana tells her adamantly, making sure that the other girl knows that and doesn't take Artie's words to heart.

"Sometimes I wonder if that's really true," Brittany confesses, shifting her body and turning her head so it's resting on only one hand with her body leaning towards the Latina's.

"I know it's true and Artie's an ass for not being able to see how incredible you are or appreciate how lucky he was to have you. He's an even bigger ass for making you doubt yourself just because he's an insecure little prick," Santana is quick to defend her, not even bothering to entertain the same doubts as the blonde.

Brittany lets the words sink in as she sits up and allows her left hand to cross the short distance between them and offer her pinky. "I can relate about not appreciating how lucky I am to have something until it's too late," she says meaningfully, not taking her eyes off the other girl's face.

Santana shakes her head as she hooks her pinky with the blonde's, a smile threatening to consume her features at the comfort the familiarity of the gesture invokes inside her. "Ditto," she states, echoing the sentiment.

"Except it's not too late for _**us**_, right?" Brittany whispers hopefully as Santana turns to meet her gaze. "I'm yours, proudly so. Remember?" She reminds the darker girl of the words she spoke that day by their lockers back when they were still side-by-side.

Santana blinks back her tears and retracts her pinky. "Yeah, but that was _**if**_ I was still single, which I'm _**not**_," she recalls that conversation vividly.

The blonde doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "David is a boy and you're gay. He's just a stupid boy Santana. Just break up with him and then we can-"

"You mean like you did?" Santana scoffs out a pained chuckle as she brings her hands up to brush the impending tears from her eyes without smudging her mascara, unable to believe that they're on the opposite side of the same argument that brought them here in the first place.

"That isn't fair and you know it," Brittany retorts, knowing that her relationship with Artie was at least somewhat more legitimate than what's going on between Santana and David.

"Britt, you literally _**just**_ broke up with your boyfriend of, like, six months. You can't expect me to drop everything just because you ask me to. It isn't fair to either of us right now. I can't take the risk that you'll wake up one day and realize that you made a mistake because you were on the rebound. I don't think I'd be able to survive you rejecting me, not again," Santana tries her best to explain where she's coming from.

The other girl immediately softens. "I'm okay with us taking things slow. We can go to Prom and-"

"Brittany, I'm going with David, my boyfriend. The most we can be right now is friends," Santana sighs, struggling to keep from giving in to the blonde because she wants nothing more than to go back to that.

"What if you, me and Quinn go together as friends? You and Quinn can meet Dave and Finn at the dance and I can just steal everyone else's boyfriends to dance with when we get there. It doesn't have to be anything more than us three…just like old times," Brittany tries again. More than anything else, she misses the other girl's friendship. She can survive without the sex and the sweet lady kisses, but she needs her best friend back.

"Can I think about it?" Santana asks after a moment, knowing this is something she shouldn't make any hasty decisions on because she doesn't want to risk pissing off Sue.

"Come on _Fondue for Two_ tomorrow. It'll be perfect since I'm interviewing Coach Sue and having her Cheerio Captain on with her would be, like, a bonus. Then you, me and Quinn can talk," Brittany suggests with a grin, knowing she can get Quinn to agree.

Santana offers her a shaky smile. "I'll think about it," she reiterates, standing up under the pretense of preparing herself for when the warning bell sounds signaling the end of lunch. Brittany's smile fades a little and she gets up as well, but she doesn't get the chance to question the Latina.

"Sorry it took so long. I just got your text about Artie. I couldn't hear my phone since Berry wouldn't quit yapping about…" Quinn trails off as she makes it fully into the choir room and takes note of the brunette's presence. "Am I interrupting? I can just…" she vaguely indicates to outside of the room, more than willing to give the girls space if they need it.

"No, I was on my way out anyways," Santana shakes her head, offering the shorter blonde a forced smile before disappearing.

Quinn takes a moment to process the Latina's impressive disappearing act. "So…what did I miss?" She asks her friend.

Brittany drops heavily into her chair and shoots the other blonde a weary look, almost too emotionally exhausted to rehash her eventful and emotionally taxing lunch period.

* * *

I'm sorry to those of you who were looking forward to Santana singing 'Songbird' to Brittany. It wouldn't have fit in with the state of their relationship right now but it _**will be**_ performed later in this story.

This chapter got to be so long (a whopping 17 pages and well over 11K words!) that I had no choice but to split it up. The Sue interview for _Fondue for Two_ as well as Jewfro's interview with Santana about David will open up the next chapter, which should take care of the rest of _Rumours_ and all of _Prom Queen_.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 27 March 2012


	14. Crowned?

**A/N**: A lot of cheerleading stuff will be discussed early on in preparation for the Cheer Nationals in the next chapter. It's relevant to the overall plot anyways due to Sue's interview on _Fondue for Two_. Prepare to spend a big chunk of the first scene inside Santana's head.

**A/N2**: Finally, the prom! Our two Cheerios will be in here quite a bit and there's a lot of Sue as well as some awesome David/Santana interactions. Also, I've recently noticed that the two Cheerios are coming across as increasingly gay…that is not about to change.

**Spoilers**: _Prom Queen_ and the rest of _Rumours_

**Warnings**: Not so subtle discussion about an eating disorder, but otherwise nothing new at this point.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Crowned?**

**Tuesday – 7:35 am**

"What happened with David yesterday?" Cody asks as she bounces up to the Cheerio captain as soon as Coach Sue dismisses the squad to the showers.

Santana sighs, already having enough on her mind without the added stress of the two girls trying to establish themselves as her new BFFs…or whatever. "Yeah. You dragged him into an empty classroom and five minutes later you guys were fine," Jaimie adds.

Casting a look towards the bleachers, the Latina notices the dark and scrutinizing look on Sue's face as she watches the other two girls disobey her orders to go to the locker room while Santana puts up the equipment…_**alone**_.

"David knows better than to cheat on me and we were able to figure out that it was Azimio who used his position on _The Muckraker_'s writing staff to print that crap about him and…Brittany," Santana explains, hesitating before mentioning the blonde girl's name.

The other two girls take in this new information, feeling bad about the way they chastised their captain's boyfriend now that they know he really _**was**_ innocent. After barely a moment, they then share a mischievous smile, seemingly on the same wavelength, before turning back to the petite Latina. "So, what's the plan, then?" Jaimie eagerly wonders while Santana packs the pompoms up in the two large bags designated for them.

"What plan?" Santana asks, valiantly managing to keep from sounding _**too**_ exasperated.

"For Azimio? We're not about to let him get away with…labeling? Library-ing? Liberating? Liberace? Uh…" Cody struggles to find the word she's looking for with increasingly disastrous results, her face scrunching up in mounting confusion before turning to the other two girls for help.

"Libeling?" Santana ventures after a beat, trying not to roll her eyes and/or smile at the other girl.

"Yeah! That," Cody brightly confirms with a nod.

"Getting revenge isn't going to fix anything and it will only make David look guilty. Besides, with him and me in charge of the Bully Whips, how do you think it would look if my own Cheerios went around starting shit?" The small brunette asks rhetorically with a half shrug as she indicates for each girl grab a bag with the packed up pompoms.

"True dat," Cody agrees after taking a moment to ponder the other girl's words.

"But we can't just let him walk all over you…especially with that thing about your gaydom in the paper too," Jaimie argues, paying no mind to her blonde friend tugging anxiously on her skirt in an attempt to get her to back off.

"Except that no one even cares about what was on the Blind Item page in the first place. Honestly, this is kind of like the pond scum of gossip since no one believes a word of it. No one in this school seriously thinks I'm gay any more than they believe that Coach Tenaka is going to be on the next season of _The Biggest Loser_," Santana shrugs, nonplussed before going over to attempt to lift the Gatorade cooler filled with Master Cleanse.

"Wait, you mean he isn't?" A truly caught-off-guard Cody questions.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Santana leaves the inquiry without comment. "David and me ignoring these rumors will do more to disprove them than attacking the person that wrote them will," she finishes explaining to the other dark-haired girl.

Jaimie nods and purses her lips but doesn't argue any further. Nudging Cody slightly, she tilts her head to where Santana is trying to move a cooler that, in all actuality, probably weighs more than she does. They both drop their bags of pompoms and go to their captain, not-so-subtly edging her out of their way as the duo easily lift the cooler and begin to walk it towards the building. Though it would be easier to move had they been able to turn it over and empty it first, Coach Sylvester would start foaming at the mouth if they dared to waste her Master Cleanse in such a manner. Besides, it would probably kill the grass so hard that it would be, like, a hundred years before the soil would be able to sustain life once more.

Santana narrows her eyes at them for so blatantly undermining her, but the look quickly drops when she realizes that there was no way in hell she'd be able to move that on her own. However, like hell is she about to go and tell them how grateful she is for their help. They might get a stiff nod of appreciation and acknowledgement…_**if**_ they're lucky. But a verbal expression of gratitude? Blasphemy in the eyes of any Cheerio captain (it even says as much in the contracts they must sign as per Sue).

"Flotsam, Jetsam!" Sue shouts through her bullhorn at the two Cheerios once they're close enough that calling them in her regular voice would have sufficed. To the pair's credit, however, they don't drop the cooler…even if they _**did**_ falter a little.

"Yes, Coach Sylvester," they obediently answer in unison, like the well-trained cheerleaders that they are.

"Since you two future C-list pornographic thespians insist on being out here to pester your squad captain in an effort to win _**not-at-all-sexually-suggestive**_ Brownie points with her, you can finish putting the equipment up yourselves," Sue sneers at the girls through the bullhorn despite being only a few feet away. "_**Lopez**_! My office!" She barks at the Latina without the use of said bullhorn despite the fact that the other girl is significantly further away than the two girls in front of Sue.

Less than two minutes later finds Santana sitting in front of the inscrutable Sue Sylvester in her Cheerio office, the door closed to block anyone from interrupting. The brunette would feel a lot less uneasy if she had the slightest idea what this was pertaining to…but she doesn't.

"David and I sorted out that Blind Item claim about him cheating. It-"

"That's not why I called you in here," Sue interrupts before Santana can continue rambling.

"No one believes that I'm gay and everyone seems to have found out that the comment on _Fondue for Two_ about 'playing on the other side' meant that I was a Cheerio now instead of in the glee club," Santana tries again to explain, thinking that this is the only other thing the older woman could have brought her in her for.

Coach Sylvester fixes her with a stern glare before turning her attention to her trusty journal open in front of her. She flips a couple of pages to one with the heading 'Froot Loop/Queerio Talking Points' underlined at the top of the page. The confused look on Santana's face is not lost on the cheerleading coach.

"I'm still torn as to what would be the appropriate term to use to describe you," she explains the slash mark between the two terms in her heading.

Santana understands 'Queerio' easily considering it's a play on the name of the squad, but…"Froot Loop?" She can't help but ask, despite every instinct telling her that she probably doesn't even want to know.

"My dear Taco Teaser," Sue addresses her head Cheerio, ignoring the look of utter mortification and unadulterated disgust on the Latina's face at the new 'nickname', "what is a 'Froot Loop' anyways?" She asks rhetorically, not giving the teen time enough to answer even if she wanted to. "I'll tell you what. A Froot Loop is nothing if not a gay Cheerio," she 'educates' the brunette.

Santana, unable to help herself, releases a short, incredulous laugh at the unexpected explanation. She can't even bring herself to be offended by the other woman at this point considering that, in a way, the definition is _**almost**_ a veiled compliment…at least in comparison to some of her usual material.

Sue allows the briefest, almost undetectable twitch of her lips in the vaguest ghost of a smirk at being able to glimpse something other than the miserable girl that Santana's become over the last year. It doesn't last more than the briefest moment simply because Sue knows what this tête-à-tête is about. With one last – albeit unnecessary – glance at her short list, she turns her attention to the girl seated before her.

"As you may or may not know, I have been invited on the internet show _Fondue for Two_ to be interviewed this evening," Sue begins. Santana chooses not to say anything, but simply nod to show that she is aware of said interview. "Well, Ms. Pierce called me yesterday evening to allow me to extend the offer for you to be interviewed alongside yours truly. Rather than accept on your behalf, I decided to consult with you first for the sole reason that I sensed an ulterior motive on her part for wanting you to tag along," she notes astutely.

"I appreciate the consideration," Santana manages to speak up. Given how the other woman has no qualms about turning her Crazy up to full-blast, she can also be dangerously perceptive as well. It's almost terrifying really.

"I'd initially planned to completely hand over the reins to you for cheer practice after school today seeing as how I obviously won't be there to run it myself or supervise. If you decide to be interviewed with me, however, practice will be canceled for the day but extended tomorrow after school. It's up to you how you want to handle this," Sue informs the stunned Latina, her expression firm but a flicker of something behind her steely blue eyes.

Santana can tell that Sue is well aware of the possible implications of whatever Santana ultimately chooses. The part that amazes the Hispanic girl is the utter lack of judgment on the other woman's face. Under any other circumstances, if Sue Sylvester were to give _**any**_one a choice, it would be in a manner in which to imply that there really is _**no**_ choice and that she is expecting only one answer. This time, however, Santana gets the sense that there is no 'right' answer and that the other woman would support either one. To say that Sue never gives anyone, let alone one of her Cheerios, the opportunity to think for themselves is a gross understatement.

For her part, Santana knows _**exactly**_ what it would mean to show up with Sue tonight. It would be a subtle agreement to go with the two blonde former-Cheerios to the prom rather than show up with her fake boyfriend and it could potentially cost her the crown and result in some poor girl being on the receiving end of a beef blood shower (infinitely less pleasant than the traditional slushy facial). Also, in a way, it would be a step towards entering into a real relationship with Brittany, which is what she ultimately wants despite how much the thought of that scares the unholy shit out of her. However, it's too soon after the other girl's break up with Artie and the damage from her previous rejection in favor of the aforementioned cripple is still too fresh.

On the other hand, it is a rare opportunity to be allowed full control over a squad practice and it's unheard of when so close to Nationals. During Quinn's brief reign as Head Cheerio last year before getting knocked up and this year before quitting, the blonde _**never**_ had been allowed this chance whereas this will be Santana's third. It's a silent show of trust on Sue's part, something that is nearly impossible to earn. All of that aside, the squad leaves for Nationals in four days and the competition begins in six. They need all the practice they can get and it will probably be more detrimental for them to do a double practice after school tomorrow than to split it up manageably with today. Her decision, she realizes, isn't really all that difficult after all.

Going on _Fondue for Two_ is a bad idea right now and, for better or for worse, Sue made certain to drill it into their brains the importance of being a cohesive team. The best cheer squads are in it for the best interest of its members whereas the best captains are in it for the best interest of the squad as a unit. Essentially, it's up to the squad members to take care of _**one**_ _**another**_ because of the inherent trust and understanding that it's the _**captain's job**_ to take care of the squad. If Santana were to cancel practice then she would be going back on one of the core principles of what it means to be a Cheerio and giving a big 'fuck you' to what it means to be Cheerio _**Captain**_.

Sue watches with expertly hidden fascination as she witnesses the Latina's entire decision-making process play out across her features with every facial expression and flicker of an emotion or memory flashing in her eyes. She's fairly certain that she sees the exact moment Santana makes her decision even though it takes the brunette a moment longer for her to realize it as well. The older woman waits patiently because she already knows what it is…it's clearly written in the determined glint in her eyes.

"The interview will be too much of a distraction and I need to focus on the squad to keep them focused as well," Santana says confidently, but they both understand the deeper meaning of her words. When she's referring to 'the interview', she's really referring to Brittany herself.

"That's what I like to hear," Sue tries not to express her pride in her protégé lest it goes to much to the other girl's head as she crosses the first two items off her list. "Now, next order of business-"

"We're not done?" Santana questions incredulously as she pauses half out of her seat as she was preparing to leave, wondering what else the other woman could possibly have to discuss.

"No. Sit," Coach Sylvester sternly commands, her gaze hardening somewhat as she points down to indicate that the other girl should take her seat.

"I'm going to be late for first period," Santana points out as she checks the clock on the wall behind Sue just as the warning bell sounds.

"I'll write you a pass," Sue easily retorts, unusually serious and calm, which worries the Latina more than a little. The older woman waits a moment to be certain she has her undivided attention. "Do you keep Master Cleanse anywhere else besides your lockers and your backpack?" She asks, much to Santana's confusion.

The Latina glances around for a partially concealed red light to indicate she's being filmed or something to explain the sudden topic change. "I have some at home in the refrigerator. Why?" She finally gets to ask what's been wondering since it was randomly brought up.

Sue shuffles a short stack of pages on her desk before standing up and leisurely pacing behind the Latina in the way she knows drives the girl mad. "As you know, in addition to the weekly weigh-ins I have monthly blood tests run on all of my Cheerios to ensure they are in good overall health. Your blood tests and weigh-in upon rejoining the squad were less than ideal, but I chalked it up to being the result of personal neglect due to your recent and obvious bout of depression over those unfortunate unrequited 'feelings' of yours," she begins to explain, even going so far as to use air quotes on 'feelings'.

"Get to the point," Santana says in a way that sounds more like a plea than the demand she likely intended it to be. Now having an idea as to where this conversation is heading, she sinks into her chair and wished she could disappear into it altogether, the feel of Sue's gaze of the back of her head making her feel ridiculously small.

"Since becoming a Cheerio, your weight and tests have been the most stable and consistent I've seen since my first year as coach. Your BMI never strayed from 18.5, the lowest it can be without you being considered 'underweight', and at an ideal 110 pounds, you have been the smallest and lightest on the squad since joining…even after you had those ridiculous titbags inserted. Everything else was perfect: blood pressure, heart rate, blood sugar, electrolytes, triglycerides and so on," Sue gestures vaguely as she moves to stand directly in front of the Latina, leaning back against her desk.

"So, what's the problem?" Santana asks, hoping to get the older woman off her case and biting down on her bottom lip when she hears the bell ring to indicate class was getting started now.

"As I said, last month there were some minor fluctuations, nothing that I couldn't brush off as being normal for kids your age. However, your weigh-ins have been taking a nosedive and your tests results from Saturday have confirmed my suspicions. You've lost over 8 pounds in a month, your heart rate and blood pressure are high and everything else has dropped. Would you like to try explaining that to me?" She questions sternly, her glare a feeble attempt to mask her concern for the petite Cheer Captain.

"No," Santana answers honestly, wishing to be anywhere else right now as she refuses to even look at the older woman.

Narrowing her eyes and fixing her scrutinizing gaze on the girl in front of her, Sue drums her fingers idly on her desk in thought. "When I asked some of your teammates, they informed me that, when you _**do**_ join them in the cafeteria, the only thing they ever see in front of you is a bottle of Master Cleanse," she informs the girl, having no problem, essentially, implying that the squad sold her out. "So, as soon as you get to school tomorrow morning, I expect you to report back here to turn in any and all remaining Master Cleanse in your possession. I've already taken the liberty of personally removing it from your lockers, backpack and purse…along with your mass murdering cigarettes," she calmly says, not the least bit fazed at having just admitted to breaking into a student's locker and removing items in her possession.

"You can't just go through my-" an enraged Santana fumes when she's cut off by Sue holding a hand in front of her face to silence her.

"I _**can**_ and I _**did**_. I expect you to surrender all Master Cleanse and don't think I won't randomly decide to come by and see to it myself that you have done so. After Nationals, I am going to see to it _**myself**_ that you get your act together. Are we clear?" Sue practically demands, not caring that the last thing the girl wants is an adult hovering over her and actually _**daring**_ to try and parent her.

"Yeah," Santana grumbles petulantly, arms crossed. Sue decides to let the attitude slide because, all things considered, her irritation is more than a little justified.

"But Lopez, if by the end of the school year I am _**not**_ convinced that you're making progress…or _**at least**_ an effort, then I won't hesitate to kick you off the squad until you can prove otherwise. Are we clear?" She questions, her tone almost barking once again.

"Yes Coach," Santana weakly nods, confused by the fact that she feels like she's about to cry.

Sue returns to her chair and pulls out a pad of stationary personalized with the school logo at the top with the official Cheerio seal and her name. She scribbles a quick note and passes it to the subdued girl barely holding on in front of her.

"Go pull yourself together then get to class," she orders the teen, effectively dismissing her. Santana simply nods before leaving.

Once the door is shut once more, Sue allows her rigid posture to relax somewhat as she breathes out a sigh. A part of her feels at least mildly responsible for whatever body issues Santana may or may not have which bothers her more than it would had this been any of the other Cheerios, even the male ones. Then again, she knows the Latina's parents well enough to take comfort in the fact that they are tougher on the girl than she is…at least when they're even around.

A knock at the door brings her back to her senses and she acknowledges that it's time she gets her head back in the game. She takes pride in the fact that Santana has developed a sense of focus similar in intensity as one Sue Sylvester's. Right now, Sue has to focus on preparing for her interview. While the internet show itself isn't exactly a widely viewed medium, it is still good practice. With her reputation on the line right along with that of her Cheerios, the results of this year's Nationals competition could mean the difference between being featured on Barbara Walter's list of Most Fascinating People of 2011 or on Katie Couric's list of 2011's Biggest Failures. She's at least confident in trusting Lopez as her captain again. Another knock makes her realize she's still a little off her game after the previous conversation.

"Come in!" She barks, though not maliciously since she knows who it is.

Becky pokes her head into the office, making sure the coach is alone. Coach Sylvester requested that she report to her ten minutes after the bell to make sure she had plenty of time to finish up her conversation with Santana. The last thing the other girl wants to do is interrupt considering how serious the coach was when she brought it up.

"So, what's on the agenda today, Coach?" She asks, taking her usual seat and pulling out her notepad to write it all down.

"Preparing for my interview on Pierce's ridiculous internet show tonight," Sue briefly informs her, holding back her smile at her lackey's eagerness.

Becky nods contemplatively. She's always liked Brittany and considers the girl a friend, but she knows that Sue has had a bit of a hate-on for the girl since around the time Santana took over as captain again and, thus, restored the natural balance of McKinley's social hierarchy. So, it's for that reason that she can't help but be confused by Sue's sudden interest in the former Cheerio.

"Why are you going on it anyways, Coach? No one outside of the school even saw it and who cares about these losers anyways?" The other girl bluntly questions.

"I consider it practice for when it's someone that matters that's asking the question," Sue honestly answers.

"But if Brittany doesn't matter, then why did you ask her to write for _The Muckraker_?" She continues.

"Beckster, you're astute observational skills have me _**engorged**_ with pride," Sue grins, impressed. "Since she is both the reason why my prized fiery Latina quit the Cheerios as well as what drove her back, I just want to keep a close watch on her. The last thing I want is for Pierce to corrupt my Head Cheerio once more and drive her away from the squad again, possibly for good," Sue explains.

"Sounds good, Coach," Becky nods, understanding the motives a little clearer now.

Sue pauses for a moment. "How would you like to appear on the show with me?" She asks the girl.

"I _**would**_, Coach," Becky begins regretfully, "but I'm afraid my hotness might explode the internet," she breathes out a long-suffering sigh.

"Fair enough," the older woman nods with a warm smile. "Would you at least like to tag along?"

"Totally," Becky accepts with growing excitement.

* * *

**Lunch**

After receiving the news that they'll be performing at the Junior Prom this morning, the glee club have been somewhat less enthusiastic about the event. Brittany stares blankly over at the table with the Cheerios and their boyfriends as she idly chews on a Twizzler. Though initially ecstatic when she noticed Santana was no longer carrying around a bottle of Master Cleanse, it was quickly replaced with confusion and concern when all she'd seen in its place was a bottle of water and her petulant bitch-face directed at the squad. She hasn't been able to tear her eyes away since.

"What's on your mind Britt?" Quinn questions her pensive friend as she follows her gaze, having an idea as to what's bothering the other girl.

"Tonight's _Fondue for Two_. She told me she'd let me know if she'd be there and she hasn't yet. She was late for first period and she hasn't even looked in my direction at all today," Brittany replies before tearing her gaze away from the Cheerio table to look at her friend. "Do you think she'll be there tonight? She _**has**_ to, right?" She implores, her tone almost begging.

Quinn's heart breaks a little, but she doesn't know if she can bring herself to tell the other blonde that she doesn't think Santana is going to show up. She's torn, however, because she also doesn't want to give the girl false hope because the disappointment will only be more devastating as a result. Luckily, she is saved from having to answer when Kurt flounces up to the table to take a seat next to Brittany.

"Hello my fellow McKinley students!" Kurt chirps happily, still glad to be back with his friends. He waits until the group greets him in response before delivering the good news. "So, as you all know, Blaine and I are an official couple," she smiles widely.

"And we are all happy for you. My dads-"

"Anyways," Kurt quickly cuts Rachel off before she can get her rant off the ground, much to everyone's relief. "After much discussion, he agreed to accompany me to the prom as my date," he announces, giddy with excitement.

"That's great Kurt," Brittany smiles, genuinely happy for him. Her enthusiasm is slightly tempered by the fact that she knows that, under different circumstances, it could just as easily have been her delivering the same news about her and Santana.

Kurt gives the blonde an odd look at her somber demeanor before brushing it off, not yet realizing that he hasn't been informed of the revelations made about the blonde dancer in his absence. "Additionally, Mr. Schue has given Blaine the go-ahead to perform a song at the prom," he beams. "Blaine wanted me to request two of the ladies from New Directions sing and dance backup for him on his behalf," he then informs them.

"Who did he have in mind?" Mercedes chimes in curiously knowing that the other boy wasn't really close enough with any of them to actually play favorites.

"Brittany and Tina," he answers, glancing back and forth between the two girls.

"Okay," Tina agrees immediately, flattered that Kurt's boyfriend picked her.

"I'm confused," Brittany frowns.

"Oh, Sweetie," Kurt coos as he places a hand on her back without realizing how condescending he's being. Quinn can't help but cover her face with a hand as she shakes her head.

Brittany shrugs him off, trying not to get too upset considering it was only yesterday that she broke up with Artie for calling her stupid. "I don't even really know him so I don't know why he would want me up there with him," she explains why she doesn't understand.

"Please?" Kurt pleas.

Rolling her eyes, Brittany can't help the small smile that forms on her face. "Sure, why not," she agrees after a moment. "Did he pick a song yet?" She asks when the boy wraps her in a grateful hug.

"Oh, yes. It's that 'Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You' song. He listens to it consta-"

Brittany and Quinn cut him off when they erupt into laughter. Everyone else at the table is utterly baffled by the reaction. Both girls' faces turn red and, as they start calming down, they happen to look at one another before bursting once more.

"I think it's a wonderful song choice Kurt. It's a fun and catchy song despite its lack of emphasis on vocal ability and-"

"Shut up, Rachel," Brittany interrupts as her laughter finally begins to subside, reaching up a hand to wipe a tear from her eye. Kurt gasps and brings a hand up to clutch at his chest in shock, never having heard the bubbly blonde utter an unkind word until that moment. "Tell Blaine I can't wait," she smiles at the boy, ignoring his dramatics.

Quinn and Brittany share another look and grin, shaking their heads in silent agreement that, given Brittany's secret dance lessons to a certain Latina's boyfriend, this is probably the most ironic song choice in the history of ever.

* * *

**Later**

Santana has spent all of Spanish listening to the murmurings of how Brittany swiftly turned down Artie's request to be his date to the prom after serenading her in Home Ec last period. A part of her wishes she hadn't opted to skip Mrs. Hagberg's daily course in bitching an moaning passive-aggressively about domestic duties in favor of taking a smoke break outside with Brad. However, she's glad she wasn't there because she doesn't think she would've been able to handle it knowing that she was part of the reason why the blonde turned him down. That guilty feeling settles over her chest again, threatening to crush her with its weight. Brittany turned Artie down without knowing that Santana had no intentions of going on her show tonight or going to prom with her and Quinn.

As class begins to wind down, Santana acknowledges that her feelings of guilt are further compounded by how mean she was when she snapped at David before lunch. He informed her that Coach Sylvester had called him the night before and explained that she needed him to keep an eye on Santana for her. Santana immediately knew it was related to the conversation she had with the other woman after practice this morning. Already in a foul mood from having such a crappy week so far and from not having eaten anything or being able to use the Master Cleanse to combat her low blood sugar, Santana had been a complete bitch before proceeding to ignore everyone during lunch.

The bell rings and Santana resists the urge to groan. Despite getting ready to go to her last class of the day, it's with one of the last people she wants to see right now. The thought of spending the next hour in AP Calculus with Coach Sue is far from appealing. It's even worse because she can tell Brittany's been floundering in that class and Sue's been exceptionally unforgiving towards her.

Once out of the classroom, barely sparing Mr. Schuester a glance, she immediately groans in annoyance when she sees who's eagerly waiting for her, old school recording device at the ready.

"Any comment on the vicious rumor left on the _Muckraker_ website about you and Karofsky doing it in the backseat of a parked car in the Holier Than Thou Cemetery?" Jacob Ben Israel questions before thrusting the microphone in her face.

"No comment," Santana sing-songs with a roll of her eyes.

"Any comment on the fact that when I looked up the I.P. address of the person who posted the rumor I found out it was you?" The boy asks with a smug tone in his voice, blatantly smirking when her quick and steady stride falters slightly.

Santana steels herself and fixes a glare on him as she reaches the door to her last class of the day. "My computer was stolen by someone who is _**apparently**_ stalking me," she pauses slightly when she notices Brittany at her locker across the hall turning towards the Latina at the sound of her voice.

"Is that so?" Jewfro inquires skeptically.

"Yes and I would appreciate any information on its whereabouts," Santana snaps at him, sighing in exasperation a moment later. "Look, all I can say is that Dave and I are going strong," she averts her gaze to nothing in particular, "and we're very excited about our prom king and queen campaign. Vote Santofsky," she finishes with confidence. It had been a small battle with Sue over their portmanteau. Eventually the Cheerio captain won because of the simple fact that 'Pezsky' sounded too much like 'pesky' and sounded too negative for people to vote for.

The scrawny nuisance barely stifles his urge to scoff. "So are you two _**in love**_?" He asks condescendingly, but Santana is too distracted watching Brittany fiddling with a tube of lip gloss and blatantly stare at them with a frown. "_**Soul mates**_, so to speak?" Jewfro continues, not buying it for a minute. Santana and Brittany make eye contact at the end of his last question, the blonde not the least bit ashamed in openly showing how interested she is in the head Cheerio's answer.

"Yeah," Santana replies while maintaining eye contact before growing anxious, glancing between the blonde, Jacob, the microphone and then back to Brittany before she continues. "I'd say that was accurate," she confirms with a stiff nod before quickly turning around and entering her classroom.

Hurt, Brittany turns her attention slowly and sadly from where Santana had just been back to her locker. She places her lip gloss back in there with the rest of her makeup before shutting her locker door. Without needing her to say a word, Brittany already knows that Santana won't be on the show tonight just as she won't agree to go with her and Quinn instead of David.

* * *

**4:45 pm**

Understandably, Quinn can't help the uneasy feeling that goes along with being in such a confined space with Coach Sylvester. She keeps the camera steady on Brittany as her friend greets the audience and introduces her guest.

"Your Cheerio captain, Santana Lopez, was meant to be with you tonight but had a last minute change of schedule. Is that correct?" Brittany asks the coach, sounding infinitely more prepared and professional in comparison to the mess from last week.

"Lopez is supervising Cheerio practice as we speak," Sue says right into the camera and Quinn can't help but feel like the older woman is speaking to her directly as if to rub it in her face that _**she's**_ never been trusted to head a Cheerio practice on _**her**_ own.

"This close to Nationals, every practice must be crucial, right?" Brittany asks with a forced smile.

"I'm sure even you couldn't have forgotten how intense training is this time of year," Sue arches a brow ever so slightly in challenge as she casually dips her chunk of raw meat in the pot of hot melted chocolate. Brittany knows that that was meant to be a dig at her perceived lack of intelligence.

"Oh, I remember and I definitely don't miss it," Brittany chuckles. "And, given the squad poor performance at the Regionals competition earlier this year, I would think you have to work a lot harder to prove that you belong in the National Championships this year than a lot of the other squads competing," she replies innocently.

Sue narrows her eyes at the girl, but doesn't take the bait. "Lopez and I have been working hard to whip the squad back into shape and our unquestionable win in the State competition proves that our efforts have been paying off," she answers diplomatically.

"Well, I for one certainly hope they continue to do so," Brittany nods towards Sue before smiling back at the camera. "And that's all the time we have for this week's installment of _Fondue for Two_. Tune in next week when we'll be dipping candy canes in simmering ranch dressing," she says with a smile and a wave.

Quinn can feel a headache forming behind her eyes as she shuts the camera off and shoots her friend a perplexed look. "What?" She can't help but ask, hoping the other girl is joking.

Brittany shrugs nonchalantly. "I still have at least a dozen candy canes left over from Christmas and my mom just got a case of two gallon jugs of ranch dressing at Costco for eight dollars," she explains simply.

"Well Ladies, I am positively _**throbbing**_ with indifference," Sue announces with an eye roll. "And Pierce, while I consider this a vast improvement over last week's train wreck, I still feel the need to spend the next seven hours in my personal hyperbaric chamber at home just to make sure I am properly cleansed of the residual failure wafting in the air left over from when the pair of you unmotivated flesh-sacks decided to quit the squad," she plainly informs them.

"It was nice seeing you too, Coach," Brittany smiles at the older woman.

"Enjoy your futures filled with nothing but disappointments as you strive for mediocrity," Sue responds as she looks from Quinn to Brittany before leaving.

Becky pauses before following Sue. "Jacob puts Santana 14 points ahead of you on his Queen Poll online," she smugly informs Quinn before leaving.

"What the hell was that?" Quinn sighs. "You don't think it's true, do you?" She asks Brittany, eyes widened, almost in a panic.

"I don't know, Sweetie. Jacob Ben Israel has never really been known for his reliability," Brittany points out, not having the heart to say that she honestly _**does**_ believe Santana is well ahead in the polls.

* * *

**Friday – 7:15pm**

Santana isn't quite sure when it was decided that Jaimie, Cody and herself would all be getting ready at Cody's house but it must have happened at some point because, well, here she is. It's strange for her to think that, somewhere between rejoining the Cheerios and now, these two have managed to wedge themselves into her life.

"This is so exciting, right?" Cody asks giddily, eyeliner in one hand while her other hand firmly grips the Latina's chin.

"Could you maybe not bounce in your seat when you have a sharp object so close to my eye?" Santana grouches, flinching every time the blonde girl's enthusiasm gets the best of her.

"Sorry," Cody smiles sheepishly as she gets back to work.

"So, are you and David going to be stuck keeping an eye on that gay kid all night?" Jaimie questions as she blows on her freshly painted Cheerio-red fingernails.

"We kind of have to since we're the Bully Whips," Santana shrugs like it's no big deal.

"Jae and I can totally take over for you when you want to, like, go dance or make out in a corner or something," Cody offers with a grin.

"Oh my god, _**yes**_!" Jaimie grins, unable to contain how much she approves of the idea. "We can be deputy Bully Whips or something," she suggests with a grin.

"Or maybe even _**real**_ ones," Cody nods wildly. "I really like those hats," she shrugs by way of explaining her desire to join.

Santana ponders the idea for barely a moment to determine if there would be a way to spin this to work in her favor. "Obviously I'll have to consult David about the possibility of recruiting new members. I'll mention it to Sue first chance I get so we can maybe make your membership official when we get back after Spring Break," she says with an air of finality.

"Awesome," Cody celebrates with a fist pump in the air.

The Latina smirks as she thinks about it. More members would obviously warrant a budget increase and, since their budget is already coming from Ms. Castle's badminton team. When faced with the chance to make Sue proud by forcing the badminton team out of existence due to lack of funding. Besides, 'badminton team'? Who are they trying to fool? Badminton isn't a sport. Any activity that has a piece of equipment called a 'shuttlecock' is automatically denied the right to ever refer to itself as a sport. Plus, getting two new students to agree to join the Bully Whips only makes them look better which makes _**Sue**_ look better.

"So what are you and Dave doing after the prom? Are you going to Tommy Mirkenfelter's after-party?" Jamie eventually asks.

"I'm not even sure. Maybe go back to my house or something. I think it depends on how we feel after the prom king and queen announcements. I doubt we'll be going to Tommy's party though," Santana shrugs.

"I don't think Jae and I are going to the party either," Cody mentions, earning an odd look from Santana.

"You two _**are**_ allowed to leave the dance with someone other than each other, right?" Santana arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the other two, who share an uneasy glance of sorts. That shared look, while not much, is _**just**_ enough to get Santana to drop the issue. No one understands that kind of confusion better than she does. So, not in any way ready to discuss it, the Latina gives them a look that tells them she knows but also promises that she won't say a thing. Neither gives any indication that they know her secret – any of them, actually – or that they are aware of how this might relate to what she went through/is currently going through with Brittany.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about with being crowned prom queen tonight. According to JBI's latest poll, you're pretty much a shoe-in to win," Jaimie informs the nominee.

"Yeah. The comments section is funny too because everyone is pretty much baffled that your campaign has been the cleanest of the three main candidates. Grimace totally played dirty by exposing Quinn's pathetic loser past," Cody mentions, her expression darkening at the thought of the former Cheerio's betrayal.

"And Cameltoe McBitch tried bribing people with taffy and constant begging," the other brunette adds and Santana can't help but burst into laughter at the nickname, the other two soon joining in with her amusement.

After gaining control of themselves, Cody finishes applying Santana's eye shadow before brushing her thumbs over the tops then bottoms of the Latina's eyelids to blend in the color and create a subtly smoky look. Santana is then allowed to take a look at herself in the vanity mirror while Cody anxiously awaits judgment, wiping the makeup from her hands with a sanitized moistened hand-wipe. It took a lot of persuading to get Santana to agree to let the blonde do her makeup since there are few people she would trust for such a delicate task. Honestly, Brittany and her mother were the only two people she'd allow other than herself and her mother is rarely around to be able to help anyways.

"Adequate," Santana nods to the nervous girl beside her. Sue Sylvester has taught her the importance of understating a job well done so as to ensure that those involved will continue to try and outdo themselves in an effort to appease you. So, while Santana is impressed and pleased with the other girl's work, she won't tell her that.

"Yay!" Cody cheers as she throws her arms up in victory, still choosing to take that reaction as though it's the highest possible compliment.

Santana simply chuckles and shakes her head. "Well girls, I think it's time we go to David's house and wait for that limo," she instructs. Without further ado, they slip on their heels and gather their respective clutches, checking to make certain they have everything they need.

"Are all of the Cheerios still meeting outside of the school first so we can enter as group?" Jaimie thinks to ask before they head out.

"I've made certain they know to be assembled outside of the main entrance no later than 8:10," Santana confirms, her brows furrowing a moment later. "Do either of you know if the others got ready individually or in small groups like this?" She wonders and both girls share a look.

"The other Juniors or underclassmen _**dating**_ Juniors all got ready together over at Chelsea Beecham's house," Jaimie hesitantly replies.

Santana's eyes harden and she sets her jaw, but makes no comment, instead choosing to hold her head up and stride confidently out of the room. She knows the other two will follow her without needing her to tell them to do so.

* * *

**9:20 pm**

Santana stands next to David off to the side of the main dance floor, taking in all of their classmates having the time of their lives. The Latina, despite looking as stunning as ever in her flattering red dress, has a mildly petulant expressing marring her features.

"What's with the frowny-face Santana- Banana?" David asks playfully with a teasing poke to her ribs.

Though she tries, Santana fails miserably at holding back a smile. "Stop it," she swats his hand away, her face cracking into a big grin as she chuckles as he resorts to trying to tickle her. "Seriously, you best gets back afores I decide I needs to cut a bitch," she warns.

"'Cause you gots razorblades all up in your hair, right?" Dave humors her as he ceases his actions.

"Imma do what I gots to do to keep from getting' jacked in Lima Heights Adjacent. That just be how I roll, Playa," she continues, her grin widening as her boyfriend cracks up.

"Keep telling yourself that 'Tana," he smirks.

They lapse into a comfortable silence as they continue to watch their peers. Despite being more confident in his abilities thanks to a week-long crash course in dancing courtesy of one Brittany S. Pierce, David is still having difficulty in working up the nerve to ask the Latina to dance with him. As he notices the petulant expression working itself back to Santana's face, he can't help but wonder why.

"What are you glaring at so hard?"

Santana takes a moment to make sure she directs her rage towards the subject of her ire before blindly lashing out at her friend simply because he's more convenient. "You would think that, after all the hard work and care we put into making this school a safer environment for everyone just so Kurt would feel secure enough to transfer back, he would at least have the decency to not turn himself into a target at the first opportunity," she practically growls.

"What are…" he trails off as he follows her eye-line.

"Him showing up in some skirt or kilt or _**whatever**_ is like a slap in the face. It's like he wants to invite ridicule and turn himself into a spectacle just so he can act like some kind of fucking martyr when someone actually decides to do something. I'd kick his ass myself if I thought I could get away with it," she grumbles darkly.

"I get that he wants to stand out, but he does it in all the wrong ways," Dave acknowledges.

"If 'being yourself' was a concept embraced in this fucking place, then you and I wouldn't be together. "We have our whole lives to be ourselves once we graduate and leave and if he can't wait one more year…" she leaves the statement open, simply shaking her head as she watches Kurt and his boyfriend.

Their attention is pulled away from the other boy as the opening riffs of "Friday" sound from the stage before Puck takes the lead on the song. David shakes his head and laughs, easily recognizing the song and remembering how ridiculous that whole internet meme was at the time.

"This song is so awful," Santana chuckles at the lame lyrics. Her chuckles turn into full-blown laughter when David starts bobbing his head and moving his feet along to the music, a big grin on his face. "I am embarrassed to be associated with you right now," she laughs at him.

"Come on, dance with me," he urges after a moment.

"Uh, hells no, Tiny. You wanna embarrass yourself go right ahead but leave me out of it," she shakes her head with amusement.

"I won't take no for an answer," David says with a grins as he takes both of her hands in his and pulls her to the dance floor. "You _**will**_ dance like a complete dork with me and you _**will**_ like it," he demands as he begins moving her limp arms around in every direction as he begins rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Nope," Santana insists, though the grin on her face hints that her resolve is more or less gone at this point. It isn't long until they are both laughing and bouncing along to the music, David occasionally spinning her for no discernible reason.

"It would be endearing if I wasn't so disturbed," Quinn deadpans, causing Brittany to jump slightly and cast a brief look towards her friend before returning her gaze to the couple on the other side of the dance floor.

"He's not a bad guy," Brittany says in response, though still silently agreeing with the other blonde's assessment.

"Maybe not, but I think we both know that Karofsky is most certainly _**not**_ her soul mate," the other blonde replies, a look of disgust crossing her features.

"You wouldn't know that just by watching them right now," Brittany notes reasonably as she watches them. "It's been so long since I've seen her smile or laugh or have any kind of fun like she is right now. The kind of fun where she isn't drowning her denial and insecurities in alcohol…or whatever," she explains with a longing sigh.

They both watch the other couple for several moments in silence. "I voted for her," Quinn confesses just loud enough for her friend to hear.

"What?" Brittany asks with her brows furrowed in confusion because she couldn't possibly have heard that right.

"I voted for Santana to win tonight. She's the only one of us nominees that managed to accomplish something positive during the campaign. She didn't slander anyone and she actually faced rumors that are actually true about her sexuality and rumors about her boyfriend sleeping with you. Every time she had a chance to lash out, she held back," Quinn shrugs self-consciously.

"Yeah," Brittany breathes out in agreement, though silently acknowledging that there's really a lot more to it.

"Besides, you know how this school works. Now that there is a strong Cheerio captain in place again, the students have their highest ranking social position filled and, therefore social order has been restored. The undisputed top of the social hierarchy always wins queen," Quinn reasons simply.

"I always liked how, even though this is such a conservative town, McKinley High has always run as a traditional matriarchy where everyone looks to the alpha female rather than some macho dude that's secretly insecure over his smaller than average penis," Brittany grins, much to Quinn's amusement.

"I'm going to find Finn and share at least a couple of dances with him and his two left feet before Figgins announces the winners. Go find someone to dance with before you get up there with Blaine," she nudges the other blonde encouragingly.

"Okay. Good luck," Brittany wishes her friend just as the song ends and Rachel takes the stage, the lights dimming. Making her way along the edges of the dance floor in search of a dance partner, Brittany isn't entirely aware of her surroundings and thus she runs into someone else. "Oh! I'm sorry," she immediately apologizes as she steadies the other girl.

"No, it's my fault. I wasn't paying attention," the brunette shakes her head before looking at her assailant. "Britt! Hey!" Jaimie grins as she greets her former teammate and friend.

"Wow, Jae. I love the dress," Brittany gushes.

"Yeah, Cody and Santana helped me pick it out," the other girl mentions off-handedly. She wants to ask about the other blonde's brightly colored dress that, somehow, seems entirely too appropriate for her friend…but she doesn't get the chance.

"Hey, you wanna dance?" Brittany blurts out before she can help herself. Something about the thought of Santana replacing her and Quinn as friends or sidekicks or assistants or whatever hit her more than she would have imagined.

"Yeah, sure," Jaimie shrugs neutrally. It isn't even like it's that big of a deal in the first place and it's not like anyone will care or notice what with Kurt walking around in a skirt…unless she started making out with the other blonde or something. However, she's pretty sure that Santana would skin her alive and feed her to Coach Sue's alleged piranhas if that happened.

Up on stage that short obnoxious girl that she's heard Santana refer to as "Schnoz-Berry" is singing some slow depressing song and she can't help but wonder why Brittany dragged her almost all the way to the other side of the dance floor. It doesn't take long to figure it out when she feels someone staring. Glancing around, she's startled to find Santana glaring daggers at her and Brittany.

As if struck by lightning, everything suddenly makes sense to the brunette Cheerio. Brittany wanted to make sure Santana saw them because she wanted to be certain that Santana could see how no one cared and how effortless it could be. Also a small part of her maybe also wanted to make Santana jealous.

All too soon, Brittany is disappearing backstage to get ready to perform with Tina and Blaine. She can't help the sly smile slip onto her features as they take their marks and hear the music cuing up.

"You are the girl that I've been dreamin' of," Blaine gets them started with Tina and Brittany joining in on the next line. "Ever since," they all call out, "I was a little girl," Blaine continues before they run through it one more time.

Brittany smirks when she catches David's amused eyes in the crowd as she continues on with Tina in the background. She can't help but think that the words are oddly appropriate given the circumstances…aside from the fact that she _**did**_ teach him how to dance with Santana, who couldn't seem more pleasantly surprised. It's a fun song and she's glad Blaine requested she perform with him since she's afforded a great view of the crowd. Once again Santana seems to be having fun jumping around and bumping shoulders with David every so often. Moments later she happens to notice Jaimie and Cory spinning each other and having fun too, their fingers remaining laced together the entire time. Furrowing her brows, Brittany tries to figure out if there's even anything to it other than it being a friendly gesture.

* * *

**20 Minutes Later**

Feedback from the microphone gathers everyone's attention to the stage where Principal Figgins is standing awkwardly. "Attention students! Attention!" He calls out while tapping on his microphone. "Will the candidates for king and queen gather on the stage?" He instructs them and they begin to file on stage. "The votes are in. This is the moment you've all been waiting for where we announce our junior prom king and _**also**_ prom queen. Roll the drum, please," this cues a drummer to start the aforementioned drum-roll. "This year's junior prom king is…David Karofsky," this results in the students cheering wildly. "Achievement. Achievement," Figgins claps along as David steps forward to retrieve his crown and 'scepter'.

Santana claps as well, blowing air kisses as she does so before turning slightly towards the blonde girl to her right. "You suck so bad, Quinn Fabray. I won," she smugly murmurs out of the side of her mouth, making the blonde wish she could go back and vote differently this time.

"And now, your 2011 McKinley High prom queen, with an overwhelming majority vote is…" Figgins takes a long and dramatic pause. Santana idly thinks about how, if this were _American Idol_ or something, this would be when they would go to a commercial break.

* * *

Soooo, how much do you hate me right now? Ending this chapter here was literally a last minute decision. I'd written out the rest of this (admittedly short) scene and was getting ready to write out my take on the Brittany/Santana conversation that would inevitably follow. Then, when I realized that there would still be at least one more scene to write after that, I decided to end it here and have the next chapter have the rest of this night leading into the cheer competition. The last chapter was almost unbearably too long and I wanted to avoid that happening again. This is still long, but at least it's about 3 pages shorter than the last one since I scrapped/altered a few unnecessary scene ideas and made Sue's interview shorter than originally intended due to how long the first scene of this ended up being.

When trying to decide where to end this chapter, I almost kept this entire scene intact but then I went over the chapter once more before finalizing it with the spoilers, warnings and Author's Notes. That line right before Figgins announces the winner was absolutely perfect and entirely unintended on my part. I cut out the last sentence of the paragraph and here it is. The only other change required was to put a question mark at the end of the chapter title and thus, the answer to the title's question is a resounding "Nope, not yet".

The next chapter will finish up Prom Queen and will go into events that never happened on the show that will, eventually segue into _Funeral_ in chapter 16. Anyways, for the upcoming chapter expect a lot of _Bring It On_ references…the first one, not any of the crappy sequels.

Next chapter look forward to the winner being crowned (finally), a pretty big scene with Santana and Brittany as well as a fun scene with Santana and David. Also, the cheer competition means that there will be quite a bit of Sue and Santana awesomeness to come as well as showing more instances of San actually interacting with the squad and leading them. Becky and Santana's two Cheerio minions will also make appearances, obviously. The entire week of the competition will be crammed in there with some minor scheming as well as glimpses of life back in Ohio interspersed…including a Brittany, David and Quinn bonding scene(!).

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 12 April 2012


	15. Lone Star State

**A/N**: As for any cheerleading pyramids and/or stunts mentioned in this chapter, I don't really go into great detail explaining them because they're not overly important to the plot. However, for the most part, they aren't actually legal in competitive cheering at the high school level.

**Spoilers**: The rest of _Prom Queen_.

**Warnings**: Language, eating disorder references, minor drug use, Sue's scheming, possible overuse of _Bring It On_ references

* * *

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: ****The Lone Star State**

"And now, your 2011 McKinley High prom queen, with an overwhelming majority vote is…Santana Lopez," the principal finally announces just before the students erupt into applause and cheers.

The Latina takes a step forward, eyeing a precariously placed bucket overhead with trepidation. She schools her expression back into a its usual cocky grin as she tilts her head forward a little to make it easier for Figgins to get the plastic tiara in place. Once her 'Prom Queen' sash is draped over her shoulder and across her chest, she leans into the microphone in front of her with a sly smirk.

"Eat your heart out Kate Middleton," Santana jokes, earning amused chuckles from most everyone in the crowd.

As Figgins ushers her and Dave off the stage to do the traditional Prom King and Queen dance, her smile never wavers and she appears, for all intents and purposes, to be happy about the win. Granted, she's glad she won because it would have been far beyond embarrassing to have lost to any of those losers competing against her. However, her smile is more from relief than anything. Despite not having had to do anything actually related to the campaign, the stress Sue had been putting her under because of it was exhausting. This tiara is more for the Cheerios than it is for her since she is merely the squad's representative. Obviously, the most important thing is that, thanks to her decisive win, Sue didn't have to employ Operation: Carrie's Revenge and no one got covered with beef blood.

Any further musings are cut short as Mercedes begins to belt out ABBA's "Dancing Queen". With a roll of her eyes, Santana smugly thinks that she could probably out-sing the other girl on this song…or any other song, as a matter of fact. David resting a hand lightly on her waist and lacing the fingers of his other hand with hers brings her back to the fact that the entire room has their undivided attention fixed on her and David right now.

Santana is surprised that the other boy actually leads when they begin to dance since she had just assumed that she'd have to take the lead on this one given the lack of dancing skills he's previously displayed. His steps are infinitely smoother and more confident than she'd assumed they'd be, especially with his goofy moves earlier. Then, without any warning, he breaks his hold on her waist to spin her and she cringes as she waits for the inevitable impact when her body slams into his because he just _**had**_ to try and show off. Except…there _**is**_ no impact. His free hand seems to catch her and stop her momentum naturally and without jarring her body.

When Santana glances up to shoot him a questioning look, she finds him grinning down at her with a great deal of self-satisfaction. "I've been practicing," he answers her unasked question.

"No shit," she scoffs obviously as he pulls her closer to his body.

"I didn't want to ruin your night by breaking all of your toes or something," he shrugs as though it's no big deal.

"Thanks," the other girl replies unthinkingly, surprised at the thoughtful gesture of the other boy actually going through the trouble of learning to dance just to make sure she had a good night tonight.

As Mercedes' song ends and one of the boys begins another slow song, Santana hesitates briefly before removing her hand from David's. His look of confusion lasts only a moment until she is draping both of her arms over his shoulders. Soon she's comfortable enough to rest her head against his chest and close her eyes. David swallows thickly when he happens to look over and find Brittany's heated gaze locked on them.

For her part, Santana tries to lose herself in the movements. David leading and being taller than her helps almost as much as closing her eyes. For a few moments she is able to forget that he isn't who she really wants to be dancing with right now. She tries to pretend a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl's arms are holding her against a lithe feminine body and that her fingers are idly twining themselves around long, golden locks as she inhales the intoxicating scent of Hyacinths and Starbursts. Except it's more like Irish Spring and something that can only be described as 'boy'. Her body is being held against a large body that is mostly muscle but not at all lithe and lacking any curves to distinguish it as feminine.

"I'm going to go get punch," Santana murmurs as she pulls away from him.

David nods and follows her as she tugs him along by the hand, her grip is firm enough to keep a hold of him but not so tight as to cut off circulation. It's an easy enough journey considering that everyone clears a path when the see the King and Queen heading their way. The football player watches trembling tan hands clenched around a plastic cup and trying not to spill the punch out of the ladle. Without a second thought, his hands cover hers to steady her movements.

"Thanks," she mutters gratefully.

Studying the girl he easily considers to be his best friend, David wants nothing more than for her to talk to him and tell him what's bothering her because she should know by now that he's there for her. There is one thing he knows for sure, especially since their dance moments ago.

"I'm sorry I'm not Brittany," he whispers regretfully.

Santana does an admirable job of not choking on her punch from her surprise at his words. Almost as if by habit the denial is right on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it down and blinks back the tears beginning to pool in the corners of her eyes, wondering when she started to become such an emotional basket case.

"And I'm sorry I'm not…someone else for you either," she quietly acknowledges in response, earning a weak smile from the other boy.

"You'd think we'd be happier about winning, huh?" Dave smirks half-heartedly, the other girl simply nodding in agreement. "Well, I'm sure my mom will be thrilled. She'll probably even try to frame this 'Prom King' sash or something. Maybe put it in a scrapbook," he chuckles to himself.

"Have it gilded and then bedazzle it '90s style," Santana adds, trying not to smile.

"Exactly!" David exclaims in amusement since that sounds exactly like his mother. They lapse into a comfortable silence, smiling contentedly at each other, simply grateful for the other's company and glad to be sharing this night with a friend.

Santana soon notices that the crowd has been thinning out since the King and Queen announcements. "I need to use the Ladies room, but after that you wanna get out of here and get some food or something?" She asks, inwardly cringing but knowing that she's going to have to get used to it once Sue starts smothering her after Nationals.

"Best idea I've heard all night," David nods in agreement.

"Awesome. Be right back," she smiles, faltering as she goes to walk away. After a split second of internal debate, she reaches up to pull David in for a short, chaste kiss on the lips before turning and disappearing.

On the other side of the gym, Brittany sees the whole thing and she feels a little piece of her heart breaking at the thought that she helped Karofsky pull Santana that much further away from her. She'd seen that love-struck look in Santana's eyes when she was slow-dancing with _**him**_ and how she panicked once it sunk in that she was getting all googly-eyed over him. It makes her stomach hurt every time she sees _**him**_ touching her in any way or sees him making her smile or laugh. Watching that innocent kiss hurts worse than anything and she can't fight the urge to follow after Santana…especially when she notices that Dave has spotted her and is on his way over.

* * *

Bypassing the Ladies room, Santana slips practically unnoticed into an empty classroom. She honestly just needed a moment to herself without everyone's eyes on her, expecting her to be all over her boyfriend or gloating obnoxiously or…whatever else they would assume from her. The gym was stifling and Santana couldn't breathe. So, leaning against Mrs. Hagberg's desk in the Home Economics room, the Latina just needs a minute or so to be able to pull herself together. Upon noticing the poster on the back of the door that reads 'Vote Karofsky and Santana', it takes every ounce of willpower she has not to simply tear it off.

Too caught up in her inner thoughts, the Latina almost yelps in surprise when the door suddenly opens. Her shock is magnified by the fact that Brittany is the one in the doorway, her face tinged pink and apologetic at having startled her.

"Hi," the blonde softly greets the other girl.

Santana stands up straight so she isn't leaning on the desk and clears her throat. "Hey," she husks out.

Brittany looks idly around the room before taking a deep breath and looking the other girl in the eye. "So, congratulations…Your Highness," she curtsies with a playful smile that is only about 30% forced.

The other girl laughs breathily. "It's just a stupid crown that you can buy at the party store," she underplays her win before shaking her head. "I guess that just because I hate everybody really _**doesn't**_ mean they have to hate me too after all," she jokes half-heartedly, speaking mostly to herself.

"No one hates you. They might be intimidated by you and your awesomeness…" Brittany trails off and frowns when Santana scoffs at her words.

"Who are you trying to convince, Brittany? Just because they voted for me for Prom Queen doesn't mean that I'm not gonna be an outsider my whole life," Santana argues her point, not able to bring herself to look at the sympathetic blonde while speaking. "_**This**_," she tugs pointedly on her sash, "doesn't mean that I'm accepted or anything. All it means is that they were too afraid to vote for who they _**really**_ wanted," she continues her rant.

"Santana," Brittany sighs as she moves closer.

"I still can't help but feel like everyone voted for me as a joke because no one in there actually likes me except for David and maybe you…but you probably voted for Quinn since she's, like, your new BFF now," Santana tries to keep her tears in check. "They must've sensed that I was a…_**lesbian**_," she hisses the last word in a whisper before her voice returns to normal, "I mean, they _**must**_ have. Do I smell like a golf course?" She rambles on, wondering why she can't seem to shut herself off.

Brittany places a tentative hand on the other girl's shoulder, infinitely relieved when she isn't shrugged off. "They don't know what you're hiding. They just…They know that you're not being yourself. If you were to embrace all the awesomeness that you are you still totally would have won," she insists pointedly.

Santana scoffs in disbelief, knowing that the other girl is trying to imply that no one would care if she were to come out. "How do _**you**_ know?" She questions skeptically knowing that this town is way too small minded not to lash out against her negatively.

"Because _**I**_ voted for you," the blonde reveals not-too-surprisingly but still prompting the Latina to turn and face her, the movement forcing Brittany to drop her hand from the other girl's shoulder before shaking her head and smiling briefly in reassurance. "And because I believe in you, Santana," she adds somewhat breathlessly as she takes another step closer into the darker girl's personal space.

The newly crowned queen lets out a shaky breath. "This prom sucks. The punch isn't even spiked," she tries to joke with a weak smile the effect is lost when she follows it up with a sniffle.

Brittany frowns at the comment about the prom since she figured the other girl would be happy about winning. She feels a pang of disappointment and concern at the mention of the non-spiked punch. "Now what are you going to do?" She finds herself quietly asking, hoping that maybe she'll be able to steal her away for the rest of the night.

"David and I are going to get some food and go back to my house," Santana finds herself answering honestly.

The blonde feels something twisting painfully in her stomach at how nonchalant the other girl is about it and the pain in her stomach is eclipsed by how much it hurts her heart to see Santana still trying so hard to hide who she is by sleeping with boys…well _**a**_ boy. Remembering the look on the Latina's face when she was dancing with David makes her want to question the other girl about her feelings for him, but she's too afraid of the answer. Santana can only be either faking it for appearances sake which wouldn't be fair to David, who Brittany now knows isn't so bad after all, or she genuinely cares about him to some extent, but would mean that she isn't really entirely gay after all.

"Santana," Brittany calls out to the other girl before she can leave the room. The other girl turns to her questioningly. "Just…don't do anything that you're not comfortable with or that you don't really want to do, okay?" She practically pleads, hoping that the dark-haired girl understands what she's getting at.

For her part, Santana has to resist the compulsion to laugh at the very _**idea**_ of having sex with David let alone the other boy trying to force himself on her. "I know, thanks Britt," she smiles gently at the blonde. She barely has time to blink before she finds herself wrapped up in the other girl's arms and engulfed in the familiar, comforting scent of the dancer. With her arms around the taller girl's waist, everything just feels right for this moment…but it doesn't last nearly long enough.

Brittany pulls away some, but remains close enough to allow her hands to rest on the Latina's shoulder, giddy over the fact that Santana's hands have settled comfortably on her hips. "Good luck in Dallas next week," she finally says before the smaller girl can think to question the gesture

"Thanks," Santana hesitates for a moment. "It won't be the same without you," she says what neither of them really wanted to be the one to acknowledge first.

"I know, but I'll be watching," Brittany manages after she swallows the lump in her throat.

Santana's lips curl up slightly into the tender smile that she only uses when it's just the two of them in private and far away from any prying eyes and it's only one of a small handful of Santana's genuine smiles. She carefully readjusts the adorable tiny top hat on the side of Brittany's head.

"I hope you _**asked**_ Lord Tubbington before borrowing his hat this time," Santana chuckles, knowing that only Brittany would make her pet's clothing a part of her own ensemble and be able to pull it off.

"I did and he approved," Brittany grins in response, a fond expression taking over her features. "I can tell he misses you because he talks about you all the time with Charity when he thinks I'm not listening," she tells the smaller girl.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to eavesdrop on your cat?" Santana smirks before becoming very much aware of their close proximity when the taller girl shrugs and begins to idly curl a lock of dark hair around a finger.

Santana removes her hands from Brittany's hips to bring them up to the taller girl's hands, one playing with her hair and the other unconsciously rubbing her shoulder. She takes the blonde's hands in her own, using the action as an opportunity to surreptitiously put some space between them.

"I didn't get to earlier, but I wanted to tell you that you're beautiful," Santana says reverently in a near-whisper before catching her slip and shaking her head at herself, "_**Tonight**_! You look beautiful _**tonight**_," she tries to cover up her perceived mistake, internally kicking herself.

Brittany laughs airily and rolls her eyes playfully, gently squeezing the hands in her own. "You're beautiful too, Santana," she states openly, not even bothering to pretend to mean something else since she isn't afraid to admit that she thinks the other girl is beautiful all the time and not just tonight.

The Latina's breath catches and she's compelled to meet Brittany's even gaze. "I love…" she stops herself, reluctant to be open with the girl who only started to really pursue her once she found herself suddenly single despite Santana being in a relationship with someone else, albeit a fake one, "…your dress," she finishes sadly.

Loudly releasing the breath she didn't know she'd been holding is all Brittany can do to keep herself from choking on her disappointment. She wants to throw things and scream that she knows how Santana feels about her because she can see it in her eyes and because she feels the exact same way. She wants to grab the girl and shake her, yelling about how it's okay and that she won't let anything bad happen to her because she'll be right there by her side through everything. She wants to tangle her fingers in dark silky hair and pull her into a rough, crushing kiss that's all tongue and teeth. Apparently, however, she takes too long trying to sort out a response of any kind.

Santana hesitates for a split second before leaning in and placing a sweet, lingering kiss on the blonde's right cheek, her lips maintaining contact longer than necessary. "Goodnight, Britt-Britt," the affectionate nickname rolling off her tongue without a second thought, her lips still so close that they brush against pale skin with each syllable. She pulls away, squeezes the hands still in her own before releasing them. With one last regretful smile, she turns and strides over to the door.

For a moment Santana thinks she'll be able to make it out of this room without another word from Brittany to cut right through her. One hand wrapped around the doorknob and the other holding onto the doorframe, she is one step away from a seven-day reprieve from the blonde and her sad, disappointed blue eyes.

"I love you too," Brittany exhales, no louder than a whisper under her breath, but Santana hears it just as loud and as clear as if the other girl shouted it from down the hall. The Latina stiffens at the blonde's response to her saying that she loved her dress. She can't pretend that she hadn't been about to tell the girl that she loved _**her**_ so she doesn't even bother to try. Instead, with her back still to the other girl, Santana squeezes the doorframe and handle until her knuckles turn white before letting go and leaving the taller girl alone in the Home Ec room.

Brittany stands unmoving and in a state of shock for an indeterminate amount of time before abruptly taking in a deep, shuddering breath. Leaning against Mrs. Hagberg's desk for support a sob bubbles up in her chest and escapes. Sinking to the ground, she can't help but wonder what she _**expected**_ to happen when she followed Santana in here. She knows better than to have expected them exchange tearful confessions, fall into each other's arms and live happily ever after…but that doesn't mean that that's exactly what she'd _**hoped**_ would happen.

* * *

**Meanwhile**

It's only with years of practice that Santana is able to keep herself together as she makes her way down the hall towards the gym, nodding her head in acknowledgement and offering a strained smile as others congratulate her as she passes. When she finally makes it back to the gym, she immediately hones in on her boyfriend before striding over to him as quickly and non-suspiciously as humanly possible.

"Hey, I'm back. Ready to go?" Santana asks as she takes a tight hold of his arm, looking up at him with a smile that anyone that bothered to look could see through…which is why David is the only one to notice when she interrupts his conversation with a couple of his teammates.

"Yeah, of course," David smiles back, trying not to appear worried in front of everyone. "I'll see you guys later," he says to his friends as he lets the other girl lead him away, ignoring the 'whipped' sounds or calls of 'Get it Karofsky' following them.

Santana notices his confused look when she drags him to a secluded area behind the gym rather than to their limo so they can leave. "I want Taco Bell but there's no way in hell I'll be able to stomach it if I'm not high off my ass," she explains as she releases her death grip on his arm to lift up her dress enough to step up on an old, greying wooden bench and take a seat on the dilapidated picnic table in front of it. She rifles carelessly through her purse and is silently thankful that she opted against sneaking a small bottle of booze in because she wouldn't want to have forced David into having to care for 'weepy, emotional, drunk Santana' tonight.

"Are you okay?" The football player finally asks as he watches her frenzied movements as she manages to light the joint between her lips.

Santana doesn't answer right away she takes a deep hit off the drug and holds it before slowly releasing the smoke, closing her eyes for a moment as she feels its effects hit her like a blow to the head. "I'm better," she tells him as her posture visibly relaxes inadvertently implying that something had happened to make her _**not**_ okay until just now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks as he takes a seat next to her on the table.

"No," Santana answers simply and honestly with a shake of her head as she tries to pass him the joint. When he doesn't immediately take it, she furrows her brows disapprovingly. "Come on. Only losers get high by themselves and it's not like either of us are driving," she thrusts it at him more forcefully.

"Fine," he mutters, his sympathy for how upset the other girl is overriding his discomfort with smoking it.

"Super," Santana smirks, feeling like she can actually breathe again for the first time since she let go of the blonde in the Home Ec room. Frowning slightly at the memory, she takes the offered joint back and takes a long hit.

They spend the next ten minutes in silence as they take turns passing it between them, both lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

**45 Minutes Later**

"Stop, hold still," Santana giggles as he tries to shove another cinnamon twist into her mouth.

"C'mon, you know you want some more of its sugary deliciousness. Nom, nom, nom," David laughs raucously as he crams another handful into his own mouth.

"Knock it off, you're going to mess it up," Santana playfully punches him in the arm to make him sit still.

"Ow, that was unreasonably violent 'Tana," the larger boy almost seems to pout as he brings his hand up to rub his abused arm.

"Calm your tits, Daisy," the Latina rolls her eyes before she snorts from trying to hold in her laughter which results in both of them cracking up. Once calmed, she holds out her right hand and wiggles her fingers expectantly until he gives her his unfinished hand. "Almost done," she murmurs mostly to herself, as she changes from the white jar to the red one.

"So pretty," he grins in awe as he waggles his alternating red and white-tipped fingers in front of himself.

"I _**know**_, right!" Santana blurts out enthusiastically as she makes sure the lids are tightly screwed on the jars of nail polish before tossing them in her small purse before pulling out a fine-point Sharpie. "Give it," she instructs pointing to his already dried right hand.

Brows scrunched in concentration, she meticulously finishes up her work. Bypassing the thumb, she prints a single letter on each of his fingers upside-down starting from his ring finger and moving out to his pinky. When he rests his left hand in front of her, she continues except working from his pinky to his ring finger and once again skipping his thumb.

"What's 'RIOSCHEE' mean?" Dave asks as he looks down and reads.

Santana laughs as she picks up his hands and turns them so he's staring at his palms. "When you hold them up like this, the person facing you is going to start reading from your right ring finger to your left ring finger," she says with a proud smile as she inspects her work. To show him what others will see, she brings his hands back down to the table but crosses his right hand over his left.

A moment later and he's laughing along with her as he realizes that his alternating red and white painted fingernails have 'Cheerios' written across them in black Sharpie. "Awesome. Does this mean I'm an honorary Cheerio now?" He asks with a playful nudge, earning a smirking nod in response. "My parents will be so proud," he chuckles.

"Gotta show Cheerio pride," Santana grins as she steals one of his cinnamon twists.

"And hey, look, it matches what I'm wearing," he proudly points out how the red, white and black matches his tux, tie and shirt.

"You're _**just**_ now realizing that you've been wearing team colors all night?" The Latina shakes her head before smirking wickedly at him. "There's only one thing left to complete this look," she says, leaning over to pluck his crown off his head. Untangling the tiara from her hair, she adjusts it on the other boy where his crown once sat. "Princess Daisy the Demure," she sing-songs as she crowns him, pinching both his cheeks affectionately before sitting back down.

"Seriously?" David laughs as he picks up his crown and settles it on the Latina's head to replace her tiara. "Well then, I guess this makes you King Santiago the Intimidating," he declares in a playfully menacing tone.

"Damn right," the cheerleader acknowledges smugly. "Now, fetch one of the servants to clear this unsightly mess away," she demands in a feigned haughty tone as she gestures to the tray of taco wrappers, empty sauce packets, a spork and wads of used napkins.

"Right away Your Majesty," David laughs as he picks up said tray to dump it out, neither of them caring the least bit about the attention they've been drawing since they entered the establishment. "Milady," he greets as he returns to their table, bowing before offering her his hand.

"Thank you kind sir," Santana plays along as she daintily places her hand in his and allows him to help pull her to her feet. "Such a gentleman…even if you look like a slob," she chuckles, rolling her eyes at his appearance.

"I don't look _**that**_ bad," David retorts as he looks down at himself. His jacket is unbuttoned with shirt no longer tucked in and the red silky strip of material that was once his bowtie hanging untied around his neck.

"Of course not, Dear," the petite Cheerio humors him with an amused shake of her head. "Now, let's go back to my place and make the most of my last night here before I leave for a week," she wags her eyebrows teasingly as they make their way to the exit, their fingers intertwined.

Quinn and Finn try to appear like they haven't noticed the mismatched couple when the pair starts in their direction since they have to pass their table to get to the door. With any luck, the other two will simply walk passed them without realizing they're even there to begin with.

"Hudson?" Karofsky questions in surprise as he notices his teammate as he and Santana reach the table.

The former Cheerio winces as she'd wanted to avoid the other girl considering how upset Brittany had been when she reappeared after having slipped off somewhere shortly after the king and queen announcements. Though the other blonde hadn't wanted to discuss it, Quinn could only assume that it had something to do with the Latina as it so often does. Quinn is reluctant to place blame solely on either of the girls' shoulders since she can sympathize with both of them and their reasons.

The Latina turns her attention to the other couple and her lips curl up into a smirk sending a chill running down their spines. "_**Finn**_ept, _**Quinn**_ferior," she 'politely' greets them. "Not really your scene here, is it?" She questions raising an inquisitive eyebrow, not picturing either of them ever setting foot inside a Taco Bell. Well, Quinn at least. Finn looks like he's tucked back his fair share of chalupas over the years.

"I could ask you the same thing. The last time I checked you were no longer eating solid foods," Quinn snaps defensively, instantly feeling guilty at the pained look that flashes briefly through the Latina's eyes and she can almost see Brittany's frown of disapproval. Santana's gaze quickly hardens and turns dark, her lips twisting into her trademark sneer of distain as she prepares to viciously lash out. The blonde braces herself, knowing that she crossed the line by attacking Santana with her eating disorder.

Upon seeing that this situation can easily go even more downhill from here, David decides to interrupt. "Could you be a little less _**Quinn**_sensitive?" He asks rhetorically, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I'm sorry, Santana. I was out of line and I didn't mean-"

"Whatever, like I care anyways," Santana scoffs, eying the other girl contemptuously. "You, not unlike your piss-poor attempt at an insult and apology, are _**Quinn**_substantial," she retorts harshly.

"I don't understand what's going on. Why would Santana be on a liquid diet? And why is that an insult? Is it supposed to be, like, a secret? Santana, are you sick or something? I hope it isn't serious. I can get you a card and I'll have the glee club sign it for you…or would you rather Karofsky get you the card? It's probably for the best since he's your boyfriend and everything," Finn rambles on before noticing the odd looks he's getting. "What?"

Unfortunately for him, Santana is the first to recover. "Wow. Just…the level of your cluelessness and ignorance is simply _**Finn**_excusable," she shakes her head. "You picked a real winner there Fabray," she scoffs.

"Hey, cool. Your tie was real," Finn points out obliviously as he sees the untied material around the larger boy's neck. "I haven't worn one since my mom's wedding a few months ago. Santana had to tie mine for me since I couldn't get it. Did she do your bowtie too?" He wonders.

"Um, yeah," David replies, his face red with embarrassment at the attention being focused on him all of a sudden.

"She's really good at it," Finn offers the other boy a half-smile which, honestly, no one seems to understand until he turns his attention back to Santana. "You'll be a really good wife to some lucky guy someday Santana," he smiles at her, inadvertently making the situation at least 1000 times more awkward since he's clearly the only one there that doesn't know of her…_**inclinations**_.

Despite the fact that Finn meant it to be a compliment, Santana doesn't know whether to laugh, cry or yell at how ridiculous he is for basing his belief that she's marriage material on the fact that she knows how to properly tie a bowtie. David seems to sense that his girlfriend is favoring the third option and decides to intervene…even though he has the strong urge to knock some sense into the other boy himself.

"Come on Your Majesty, let's get you home so we can hang out and troll your DVR before you leave tomorrow," David instructs the Latina, leading her towards the exit.

"More like we need to get back by midnight before you turn back into a pumpkin," Santana retorts with a smirk.

"You aren't exactly Princess Charming," David points out, laughing when she pokes him in his very ticklish stomach.

That's the last thing Quinn and Finn hear before the door closes. The blonde turns to her boyfriend with a look of confusion. "What just happened?" She asks, mostly to herself, as she tries to wrap her mind around the fact that the other couple seemed genuinely comfortable and close with each other. It unnerves her when she remembers that they're going back to Santana's empty house and what is probably going to happen between them tonight.

Finn just shrugs carelessly as he goes back to eating his Nachos Bell Grande.

* * *

**Saturday – 5:10 am**

"You really didn't have to do this," Santana mutters sleepily.

"I know, but I wanted to see you off and wish you luck next week," David smiles back as he brings her in for a hug goodbye. "Call me when you get to the hotel because I want to make sure you're feeling better," he says quietly into her hair so no one else around can hear.

Shortly after getting back to her house last night, the Taco Bell seemed to catch up with Santana, who spent half the night with her head in the toilet. He isn't sure if it was a legitimate reaction to the food or if it was the reaction she programmed herself to have whenever she ate, but he didn't want to go slinging accusations at her especially after Quinn's comment last night or the phone call from Sue earlier that week.

"You'll call, right?" David asks her when she doesn't acknowledge his words. It takes another moment for him to realize that she fell asleep…standing up…while leaning against him. "'Tana, it's time for you to go," he gently shakes her shoulder, amused.

"Ugh, sucks," Santana grumbles as she pulls away, tugging the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her hand and wiping away the small patch of drool she left on the boy's shirt. As he hands over her backpack, which she decided to use as her carryon, she couldn't be more grateful for checking her Cheerios duffel and the garment bag with all of her newly dry-cleaned uniforms.

"See you in a week," David says as he gives her another quick hug and places a brief, platonic kiss on her forehead before letting her go so she can pass through the metal detectors and wait with Sue and the rest of the squad at their gate. Once passing through the metal detectors, Santana turns and, upon finding the other boy still standing there, offers him a short wave and small, albeit genuine, smile before walking off.

As soon as the Latina disappears around a corner down the corridor, David hears the sound of sneakers pounding against the low carpeting before coming to a stop a few short feet away from him and accompanied by heavy breathing.

"Where…is…she?" Quinn gasps out between breaths.

"I don't see her," Brittany replies, significantly less winded, but her words still coming slowly from the exertion.

"You just missed her," David informs the pair uncomfortably, assuming they're talking about Santana. The blondes turn to the other boy at the same time, not having even seen him standing here when they'd approached.

"You're here," Brittany states obviously, not sure why she's surprised to see the other boy.

David furrows his brows at her tone. "Of course. I spent the night with her at her house and drove her here," he replies slowly without realizing what his wording might imply.

"And you're picking her up when they get back next week?" Quinn asks skeptically, having finally caught her breath.

David almost does laugh at that. "Well, yeah. I'm not going to make her _**walk**_ home," he scoffs. The silence that follows is almost painful due to the tension between the three of them and the football player is moments from dismissing himself.

"Maybe we should try calling her," Brittany blurts out as she fumbles for her phone.

"Don't bother. I reminded her to turn it off on our way here so she wouldn't forget when she got on the plane," the jock thwarts that plan. He wants to ask why it's so important that they get a hold of the Latina, but he refrains since he's fairly certain that it isn't any of his business.

At this, the blondes' shoulders slump in defeat, resigned to the fact that they won't be able to speak to the other girl at least until she gets to Dallas and turns her phone back on. The awkward silence returns in full-force, there is already too much between the three of them that has been left unsaid for too long.

"I never got the chance to congratulate your win last night," Brittany says to the slightly taller boy, wincing as she darts her eyes to her friend who lost epically.

"Oh, um, thanks," David replies bashfully, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as his face and ears burn red at the acknowledgement. "So, uh, what are you guys doing for Spring Break since you're not on the Cheerios this year?" He asks in an attempt to make polite small talk as the three of them begin to slowly make their way to the escalators to take them down to the ground level so they can get back to their cars.

Quinn and Brittany share a look as though silently asking the other if it was okay to divulge. "Nothing set in stone aside from watching the Cheerleading Nationals on ESPN 4 when the Cheerios are on," Quinn informs the other boy carefully. "What about you?"

If at all possible the other boy turns an even deeper shade of red. "I promised my little sister that I'd watch the Nationals with her too," he admits, slightly embarrassed but refusing to divulge that he's likely just as excited to watch as Katie is.

Brittany grins whereas Quinn arches an eyebrow, not having known that the other boy even had a sister. "Emily told me how excited she and Katie were to see 'Tana this year," the dancer mentions in subtle reference to the friendship between their two sisters and to the other connection both have to the Latina.

"Yeah, my parents want me to DVR the Cheerios' performances since they'll be at work," David says with a smile of his own.

"Your parents?" Quinn can't help but ask.

"Oh yeah. My parents and sister love her. She's pretty much Katie's hero right now," the other boy chuckles, not noticing the mildly surprised looks on the former-Cheerios' faces. "I just have no idea when they'll even be on since there are, like, 50 squads performing over five days with the semi-finals and finals to consider," he frowns slightly at the thought, making a mental note to ask the Latina when she calls him later.

"Oh, the top 10 ranked squads don't compete in the first round so they won't perform until Wednesday's semifinals and when they advance, which they will, the finals are Friday morning," Quinn quickly explains.

Brittany finds herself struck with sudden inspiration. "Here's a thought," she grins, "since Quinn, Ems and I are planning on watching it just like you and Katie, why don't the five of us just watch it together? I mean, we're all rooting for the same squad and its captain so we might as well," she rationalizes, ignoring the 'what the hell are you thinking' look Quinn is shooting at her.

David, however, does notice the look and he tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans awkwardly. "I'll think about it and talk to Katie and my parents about it," he replies, not wanting to make any rash decisions.

"Awesome," Brittany beams, hoping that befriending Santana's boyfriend might be in her best interest since the Latina seems to listen to him and could help regain the girl's friendship, at the very least. "You have my number so call me and let me know," she tells him.

"Yeah," David smiles weakly as he pulls out his keys. "I'm parked over that way," he says, nodding his head to the opposite side of the parking garage as the other two girls seem to be heading.

"Okay, talk to you later David," Brittany amicably replies with a wave.

"Bye," Quinn waves at him as well and he smiles at them in acknowledgement before turning and leaving, trying not to outright run. The last thing he hears is Quinn hissing, "Are you out of your mind?" at the other girl.

* * *

**Dallas Marriott – 1:30pm (Central Time) **

Dropping face-first onto the soft twin bed, Santana wants nothing more than to curl up and take a nap. She didn't get a moment of peace from the time she met up with the rest of the squad and Sue by their terminal until now, not even during their layover in Missouri. This is the first chance she's had to get any sleep and she's eternally grateful that Sue roomed her with Justin Avery again like she did for State. The other boy is far too social and easily excited to stay in the room…especially with his terrifying squad captain. So, after dumping his stuff off, the male cheerleader of questionable sexuality was off to chit chat with some of the other Cheerios several rooms down the hall from where he'd be spending the next week.

Santana's eyes are closed and her breathing is just starting to even out, too exhausted to even bother turning her phone back on just yet. The all-too-brief tranquility is brought to an abrupt end when the door swings open accompanied by two very familiar voices.

"Don't worry, it's just us. Justin let us borrow his keycard to get in so it's cool," Cody chirps excitedly, skipping into the room.

"I can't believe you got stuck with that gossipy queen again," Jaimie rolls her eyes.

"_**So**_ unfair," the blonde girl declares as she throws herself next to the Latina on her bed.

Santana sobs in frustration into her pillow. "And we're, like, way down the hall from your room. We'd totally try and switch with Stacy and Devyn next door-"

"And they'd totally be all for it since they, like, basically shat themselves when they found out they were in the room next to you," Cody cuts off her friend.

"-but we don't think Coach would approve since she's right across the hall from you and would totally notice," Jaimie finishes as though never interrupted in the first place as she sits Indian-style at the end of Santana's bed and facing the other two girls.

"And also they're bitches and it's fun to watch 'em squirm like a worm on a hook," the other girl adds with an amused grin before realizing that the Latina hasn't actually said anything or lifted her head yet. "Hey, are you awake?" She asks, poking the squad captain in the side. Santana grunts in annoyance but doesn't otherwise move. Cody shrugs at the other brunette.

Before either of them have a chance to further provoke the squad captain, the door comes flying open. "Frick and Frack, get out," Sue orders upon seeing the two cheerleaders. "You can have your little Queerio support group meeting later," she snarks as the girls reluctantly get up and make their way out of the room while Santana begins to sit up groggily. "You, come with me," she instructs, unnecessarily pointing at the only other occupant in the room before turning her hand and crooking that same finger in a 'come here' motion.

With a sigh, Santana drags herself out of bed and follows Sue out of the hotel room and down the hall. "What did I do this time?" She asks, not in the mood for another lecture.

Sue says nothing as she pulls out a folded sheet of paper from an inside pocket of her track suit jacket. "Do you know what I have here?" She asks rhetorically, earning an arched eyebrow from the Latina. "This tells me where the California squad will be set up on Wednesday," she explains.

"Oh no," Santana groans, sensing another evil scheme about to be revealed.

"Let me explain what I like to call Operation Squad Down," the older woman grins sadistically. Santana can only imagine the horror she is about to endure…which is confirmed when the words ipecac and castor oil are mentioned.

* * *

**Tuesday Night **

"The squads that performed today were total ass," Jennica Nylund snorts in agreement with one of her teammates. As per Sue, the squad was spending some 'bonding' time together before getting some sleep before performing their semifinal routine tomorrow.

Santana is paying the others little mind just as they are doing with her as she keeps herself occupied by painting her nails in alternating red and white…like she did with David's on prom night. A small smile plays on her lips as she thinks about her friend. Stretched out over an armchair in the lobby of the fifteenth floor, she has her phone resting on her stomach for easy access when he texts her back. Her self-imposed mental isolation from the rest of the squad is brought to a swift end.

"Right Santana?" Jaimie asks in a tone that implies that she's repeated that question more than once as Cody waves her hand in front of the Latina's face to bring her back to reality.

"Hmm, what?" Santana questions lazily, not in the mood to scowl or yell or snap at her squad unless necessary…much to everyone's surprise (except Cody and Jaimie).

"That it's weird about how the Texas squad was disqualified this morning because one of the officials busted them for mixing Benzadrine in their protein shakes," Jaimie says.

"Totally unexpected," Santana deadpans as she meets Becky's eyes on the other side of the room, both girls sharing a conspiratorial smirk.

"They're ranked third in the country and Coach Sylvester stressed to us that they were some of our biggest competitors this year," Lacey Gilman mentions, almost in shock at the scandal.

"I guess now we know why," Jennica sneers.

"But Ranch Meat High School is ranked second after us, so they're kind of a big deal, right?" Cody asks the group, brows furrowed.

"Ranch Meat?" Justin questions, looking around to the others to see if they have a clue.

Santana smirks without taking her attention away from blowing on her nails to dry them faster. "She's talking about the California squad," she chuckles, used to deciphering verbal riddles from her own blonde, though she suspects that Cody isn't doing this on purpose. Something about eating lead-based paint chips as an infant…

"You're talking about Rancho Carne, C?" Jaimie asks her friend for clarification.

"Yeah, doesn't that mean Ranch Meat in English?" She wonders. All eyes shoot to Santana to answer, but the Latina is too busy reading over her latest text with a smirk to be bothered.

"Ugh, ignore her. She's too busy sexting her latest boy toy," Jennica rolls her eyes condescendingly, caught off guard when Santana lifts her right hand and flips her off without pausing while typing out her reply.

The Latina smirks when her gesture elicits a round of laughter at the bitchy bottle-blonde's expense. Somewhat distracted by the group of Cheerios around her, when her phone begins to ring while she's in the middle of typing out a reply to David, she doesn't even think to look at the number before picking up.

"Why so impatient D? I was almost done with-"

"San?" The voice on the other end interrupts.

The head Cheerio clears her throat nervously. "Yeah, hey," she replies, sitting up properly in her chair. "Everything okay?" She asks when the other end stays silent for several moments, taking this opportunity and eases out of her chair to get some space between her and the others under the pretense of wanting privacy to talk to her boyfriend.

"Yeah, sorry. I just wasn't expecting you to pick up since you've been avoiding my calls and texts," the blonde replies, shaking herself out of her stupor and not sounding the least bit bitter or resentful over the fact.

"Then why call if you didn't think I'd answer?" Santana furrows her brows.

"I was going to leave you a voicemail wishing you luck," Brittany shrugs bashfully even though it's lost on the brunette since she can't see her.

"Thanks," the Latina replies softly, not wanting to say her name since she knows the others are still trying to eavesdrop.

There is another long, uncomfortable silence filled with all the words they haven't said. "When you get home…" Brittany hesitates, speaking in hushed tones to, presumably, keep Quinn and/or Emily from overhearing, "…we need to talk. Please? I just-"

"Yes," Santana breathes out. Though she's terrified and not sure if she's ready, all she wants is finally have everything out in the open. She can psych herself up and be ready in four days…or at least do a damn fine job of pretending.

"Good," Brittany sighs out in relief, a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. "I'm proud of you, Santana. You got the squad all the way out there and you'll bring home your second win as Captain, I know it," she smiles slightly into the receiver.

"Thank you," the other girl says more clearly, gripping her phone so tightly that she fears it might crack. They both know that they aren't talking about the competition anymore, but the blonde's unwavering faith in the Latina. "I don't know what I did to deserve you but-"

"I love you," the blonde blurts out, trying to stop the inevitable flow of self-deprecating remarks that tends to follow that lead-in. She closes her eyes and braces herself for the impending brush off like every other time she tries to say it.

Santana huffs out a deep breath. "I love you too. So much," she confesses quietly so as not to disrupt the conversation going on in the lobby.

"Lopez!" Sue barks, interrupting anything else either girl might have had to say.

"I have to go," Santana mutters into the line and Brittany laughs at her tone, exchanging quick goodbyes before hanging up. "Yes Coach?" She questions the older woman, knowing exactly what she's being summoned for.

"Get your taco-tossing self over here. We've got a lot to do and you need to get your head in the game," the coach barks as she waits for her head Cheerio by the elevators. Santana rolls her eyes as she walks over to comply, the others only now noticing that the petite Cheerio is the only one actually dressed and with shoes on. "Leave your phone with one of your minions to put in your room for you. No distractions right now," she instructs.

With barely a second thought, Santana tosses her phone onto Jaimie's lap, trusting her a lot more than Cody not to snoop. "Just drop it on my bed before you go to your room later," she tells the other girl.

"Yeah, of course," is the amicable response, the others (except Cody) a little amazed at the easy exchange.

"And Jennica, do something about your roots and make sure you tighten your pony for the competition tomorrow," Santana barks, much to the amusement of the whole squad. A few short moments later, after the elevator doors have shut, Cody launches herself onto her best friend's lap with an '_oof_' from the other girl and plucks the phone right out of her hand before the brunette can even blink.

Since the Latina didn't have a chance to lock her phone, Cody quickly pulls up the call history to see who it was that the brunette just declared her love to because, going by her gut instinct, Cody doesn't think it was David. Her suspicion is quickly confirmed when she and Jaimie see that the call that just ended was from a certain Brittany S. Pierce. Jaimie manages to snatch the phone back and lock the screen.

"Stop trying to be so nosy Co-Co," the brunette chastises her friend with a smirk at the use of the old nickname while she spazzes out a little on the inside.

"You suck," the other girl whines, rolling her eyes.

Neither girl is particularly surprised at the confirmation that there had been more to Brittany and Santana than just a close friendship since they'd had their suspicions. What comes as a surprise is that they are not only in love, but there is also reason to suspect that, maybe, it was _**Santana**_ that had been sneaking around with Brittany behind _**David's**_ back and not the other way around.

* * *

**Wednesday Morning – 8:25 am (Central Time)**

Santana feels really good about today. As the returning champions for the fifth consecutive year, they will be the last squad to perform today. The top ten ranking squads are always exempt from the first round and are set to perform on the first day of the semifinal round, the number one ranking squad always poised to end out the first day of semis. Still, with only ten squads going today and the remaining ten going tomorrow, they'll be going right around 1:00 in the afternoon. The good news is that the judges will be in a good mood having just had their lunch break but the bad news is that it will be when the dry Texas heat will reach its highest point of the day. Not even 9:00 am and it's already nearing 85 degrees outside.

"Well, what do we have here?" A taunting voice from behind causes Santana to roll her eyes as she stops walking, having enjoyed scoping out the competition up until now.

"Did you want an autograph from the captain of the squad that's going to kick your ass for the sixth year in a row?" Santana smirks at the group, arms folded across her chest as she turns to face them. The expression on who appears to be the other team's captain is nothing short of unpleasant. "Now don't give me that look, missy. It's not _**my**_ fault you'll never be anything better than second best," she continues condescendingly, not the least bit bothered that there are at least six of them surrounding just her.

"What did you just call me?" The now confirmed captain seethes.

"Get over yourself. It's hot out and you're clearly getting cranky so why don't you SoCal skanks meander back over to your own tent, rehydrate with some _**not-at-all**_ product-placed Gatorade and get some practice because you're going to need it," the Latina attempts to brush them off, waving them towards the tent where their school's banner is hanging.

"Sounds like someone is trying to distract us because she doesn't have her cheer-pack to back her up," one of the other girls snickers.

"Yeah, my squad is too busy practicing while you guys troll the field trying to intimidate other squads…and _**that**_ is why you aren't going to win today," Santana snarks, not really feeling the need to bring up the other reason why she knows they won't win.

"We'll see," the other captain challenges.

The group remains at an impasse with none of them willing to back down and Santana arches an eyebrow at the other captain. "I'm sorry but don't you have a strict purging schedule to adhere to? I saw you shoveling that bacon down your throat this morning like you were a wild animal or something. The greasy looking sweat seeping from your pores suggests that you've reached a crisis point," she growls.

"Fuck you, Satan!"

Santana rolls her eyes at the fact that everyone always seems to default to calling her 'Satan' when they run out of trash talk. "Don't get mad at me just because you put the 'suck' in 'liposuction'."

"Oh, so we're going to go there, huh?" The other captain questions in amusement.

"Bring it," Santana smirks, amused.

"Dillon," the captain snaps her fingers to summon one of the other girls, a gangly little brunette.

"Uh," Dillon falters immediately as she struggles for words, eyes darting back and forth between the two captains. "You put 'awe' in 'awesome'," she flounders.

"Um, thank you?" Santana doesn't know what to do with that, face scrunched up in confusion at the compliment.

"You put the 'itch' in 'bitch'," Santana whips her head around to find that, at some point, her squad saw what was happening and came over to help and, surprisingly, Jennica is the one that got the ball rolling.

"The 'whore' in 'horrifying'." Devyn.

"The '_**ugh**_' in 'ugly'." Stacy.

"The 'duh' in 'dumb'." Justin.

"You guys put the 'lose' in '_**losers**_'!" Jaimie shouts out the last word as she mockingly holds her finger and her thumb up in the shape of an 'L'.

"Shut up, you guys suck!" One of the other team's male cheerleaders whines.

"Hey, does anyone have a Hefty bag?" Cody asks the group innocently.

"Uh, no. Why?" Justin dares to ask.

"So we can get rid of all this trash I'm looking at," the blonde grins in response, high-fiving a laughing Santana.

"Oh, your pathetic squad has _**no**_ game…especially compared to us. Run along now children so the grown-ups can talk," Santana patronizes the embarrassed squad.

"Whatever, you got lucky is all," one of the other girls tries to justify why the California squad is walking away and how it has nothing to do with their humiliation.

Becky and Santana watch as several members fill some plastic cups with Gatorade from the Gatorade cooler under their tent, gulping it down. Satisfied, they share a secretive nod of acknowledgement (and amusement) as they head back to their own tent with the rest of the Cheerios.

* * *

**1:55 pm (Eastern Standard Time)**

"I wish they'd hurry up already," David sighs, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl when offered. Quinn and Brittany smirk at the jock's unexpected enthusiasm for competitive cheerleading which, surprisingly to them, has nothing to do with the short skirts and bouncing…assets.

"Davy, how long until 'Tana comes on?" Katie whines from her where she is cuddled into her older brother's right side, his arm over her shoulders to keep her close.

"Yeah, Britt-Britt, how much longer? I'm gonna be _**at least**_ 80 years old by the time she comes on," Emily groans melodramatically from where she's made herself comfortable…against David's other side.

"At least _**another**_ fifteen forevers," Brittany mimics her sister's exasperated tone, unable to hold back her grin at the sight of the two eight year old girls cuddled up against the large football player on the loveseat. "I really wish I had my camera right now," she muses thoughtfully.

"Me too," Quinn chuckles. "Who knew that big, bad David Karofsky was secretly a big ol' teddy bear?" She continues in a lightly teasing tone. The two older girls share a laugh when he turns a vibrant shade of magenta because he's already used up all his red courtesy of all four of the girls at different times over the course of the day.

"I've heard 'Tana say something like that before," Katie answers the rhetorical question and, in effect, officially causes David's blushing mechanism to malfunction and spiral out of control. Thankfully, the football player is given a reprieve in the form of some official coming on the screen to make an announcement.

"_The squad slated to perform next, the Rancho Carne Toros from San Diego, California, have been forced to withdrawal from the competition due to a sudden illness of several members. So, today's final routine will be from the top ranked squad in the country and the returning champions for the fifth year in a row, William McKinley High School's _**Cheerios**_ from Lima, Ohio!_" The audience goes crazy, as do the five people gathered in front of the big screen HD TV in David's living room.

"Man, the Cheerios have a lot of support down there," David observes as he sees all of the banners and signs in the stands while the Cheerios take their positions in the performance area.

"Totally," Brittany agrees before smirking at the other boy. "But I don't think any of them have their support for the squad displayed on their fingernails," she laughs, unable to continue letting it go without comment.

To the surprise of both Brittany and Quinn, Dave just laughs with her rather than growing quiet and embarrassed. "Even if they did, none of them have the honor of having had the Cheerio captain herself do their nails personally," he replies.

"Touché," Quinn smiles her response on behalf of both her and Brittany just as the music starts to play.

Once the squad gets started with their routine, the two eight-year olds scramble off the couch and away from David to be able to see the individual Cheerios easier. "There's 'Tana!" Emily shouts as she points at one of the girls on the screen, proud for having spotted the one common denominator between all of the occupants of the room.

"Oh my god Quinn, please tell me they aren't doing a Wolf Wall," Brittany mutters as she watches the familiar set up.

"Oh, they're doing it," Quinn unfortunately confirms.

"What's a Wolf Wall?" David asks curiously, watching as Santana is gracefully lifted to the top of and overly complicated pyramid.

"Only the most dangerous and difficult pyramid known to cheerleading…and mankind," Emily replies obviously and with an eye roll.

"Geez Davy, haven't you ever seen _Bring It On_?" Katie sighs at her brother's ignorance.

Any further discussion on David's lack of knowledge is brought to a halt when, much to their horror, Santana is essentially launched off the top of the 2 ½ person high pyramid into a backflip. Thankfully she's caught by the two spotters in back and brought down to safety. The Wolf Wall on its own is dangerous enough without Sue Sylvester's own personal twist pushing the boundaries of it even being legal with Santana's jumping off point making it a full 3 people high for a fraction of a second.

At the end of the routine, which receives a standing ovation, they finally allow themselves to breathe again. David rubs his hands over his face to regroup and recover. "I'm pretty sure that just took ten years off my life," he breaks the silence.

"I'm afraid to see what they do for the finals," Brittany speaks up and reminding them that there's still more to come.

"I swear, if she makes it back from this alive I might just kill her myself for even agreeing to do any of this," David shakes his head in disbelief.

"Cheerleaders are badass," Brittany deadpans by way of explanation.

* * *

**Friday – 5:30am (Central Time)**

Santana knows that she should be trying to get all the sleep she can considering that the complicated routine for today's Finals leaves no room for error and, given her role in the finale, she especially can't afford to be off her game. Yet, here she sits, alone in the lobby of the fifteenth floor and hunched over her phone on _American Cheerleader_ magazine's website as she reads through their coverage of the competition. The reporter praised the Cheerios' performance on Wednesday and even mentioned Santana by name when suggesting that the reason the squad had such a poor showing in Regionals back in January was due to her absence.

The Latina knows that it isn't healthy for her to be combing through the review in search of a hidden criticism or ambiguous turn of phrase, but she can't help it. Her entire future is wrapped up in her success as Captain of the Cheerios and her role as such is dependent on her success here. She can't help worrying about today's performance and how much work has gone into it. Coach Sue and she came up with a solid and intense routine dense with solid, tricky stunts and very little 'fluff', unlike most of the other squads. As well-trained and disciplined the Cheerios are, both as individuals _**and**_ as a cohesive unit, the events over the last day or so have her concerned.

Thursday proved itself to be a prime example of why cheerleading is one of the most dangerous sports in female athletics. Despite the fact that, only three percent of female high school athletes are cheerleaders, cheerleading accounts for 65 percent of total serious injuries in girls' high school athletics as a whole. There's a reason for that and it isn't because cheerleaders are clumsy or lazy or not physically strong enough.

Over the last four days of practices and performances, there have been at least two dozen injuries ranging from a sprained finger to a concussion to a fractured vertebra when one girl toppled off the top of a pyramid and landed on her neck. Santana had been standing on the sidelines when that had happened and actually heard it crack when the girl hit the ground…she was lucky she didn't die. Since Monday, at least eight of the twenty-four (or more) injured cheerleaders required an ambulance to remove them from the scene. Tennessee's head cheerleader dislocated her knee because her execution of a basic herkie was more than a little jerky. The Head Cheerio has seen so many sprained ankles and broken noses that she's lost count. Even though she's a demanding and hardcore leader, she honestly doesn't know if she'd be able to live with herself if one of her fellow Cheerios sustained any kind of injury because of her.

Part of Santana is convinced that Sue didn't even need to sabotage the California and Texas squads because chances are that something would've happened anyways. Having Becky plant Benzadrine in the Ft. Worth squad's protein shakes and then 'anonymously' tipping off the officials (Sue called it Operation: Ft. Worth_**less**_) was pretty funny though because the girls had no idea why they were freaking out before they were told about the drugs. Santana would have been appalled when Sue had her lace Rancho Carne's Gatorade cooler with her own blend of ipecac and castor oil if that squad wasn't so unpleasant. They were just bitter because coming into this year, McKinley was tied for the record of five consecutive Nationals wins with none other than Rancho Carne High. Those bitches were just bitter that the Cheerios were going to break their record this year.

Seeing that it was now almost 6:00, Santana sighs and decides to sneak back into her shared room before Sue makes an appearance. The last thing she needs right now is the coach to start reprimanding her for not getting enough sleep or sitting down with poor posture or…whatever ridiculous thing she could come up with. What she needs is to focus on the routine and their impending win, _**not**_ on the high potential for injury due to the routine's difficulty, Sue's implied repercussions in the event that they _**don't**_ win or the fact that David and Brittany will be watching back in Lima with their younger sisters and Quinn.

* * *

**6:30 pm**

Finally, _**finally**_ she managed to sneak away from the rest of the squad without notice. She's certain that she hasn't been able to have a moment to herself since retreating back to her room before anyone else was awake this morning. Their routine was finished just after 12:00 and it had gone off without a hitch, but she's still shaking from it. The final pyramid has been a highly illegal Swedish Falls that was only really allowed because it was _**technically**_ a transitional pose into something else.

Basket tosses are dangerous enough when all of your bases are on the ground, but when your bases are being held by bases of their own and your jump is more complicated than a simple toe-touch or a tuck. An Around the World is one of the most difficult jumps to accomplish since it requires two positions in a short period of time while managing to land on your feet. Even more difficult is when it's a double jump so, upon landing she was immediately tossed back up to do it again. All she could do while airborne each time was hope that neither set of bases beneath her collapses before during or after her jumps. Then she had to barrel roll off the top into the bases at the ground level. It was terrifying.

Between the end of the routine and time it took for the judges to reach their decision, she'd been calm on the outside bust still a nervous wreck inside. People were coming up to compliment and congratulate her and her squad as well as her own squad talking animatedly to her and around her. Things got worse after the winners were announced and she hasn't been able to shake the feeling of being smothered since this morning.

Alone in her hotel room and seated on the floor leaning against the side of the bed not facing the door, she pulls a pillow from her bed onto her lap. Burying her face in the plush material, Santana releases the scream that's been building up in her chest. That is then followed by a second and a third, all muffled by the pillow but each more guttural and heart wrenching than the last. The last of her screams is accompanied by tears and the occasional sob. Santana knows that this is all wrong and that winning shouldn't hurt this much. She shouldn't feel as empty and alone as she does right now.

The ringing of her phone makes her eternally grateful for the pillow that muffles her surprised cry. She's shocked to realize that she wants it to be Brittany calling because she knows that the reason why this win feels so much like torture is because she has no one here to share it with. No one celebrating out in the hallway or lobby is really her friend, not even Jaimie or Cody…who disappeared after everyone got back to the hotel anyways.

Santana shakes her head as her phone continues to go off and she immediately answers it before it can go to voicemail. "Hey!" She chirps, hoping to sound happier than she feels.

"Congratulations on the big win today Girlfriend," a decidedly male voice greets.

"Thanks David," Santana replies, cursing herself for not checking caller ID.

"Wow 'Tana, save some of that excitement for the victory party tomorrow," David deadpans.

"Party?" Santana asks, wondering if she's the only one that didn't know about it, not that she would be surprised if no one told her.

"Yeah, I just got a call from the older brother of one of your Cheerios, Stephanie Fowler I think. He's setting it up and said he'd send out the Facebook notifications for it tonight," David answers carefully. "Are you okay?" He then asks, sensing that something's a little off with the other girl.

"Of course. Just exhausted," she lies.

"Oh, okay. I guess I'll let you get some sleep then," he replies, a little disappointed that their call is getting cut short, but content that he'll get to see her again tomorrow.

"Thanks. Night Dave," she says before hanging up and crawling into bed.

* * *

**Saturday – 8:55 am**

Santana is the last of the Cheerios to board the plane. Barely three steps down the aisle a hand firmly grabs a hold of her upper arm, halting her further progress. She ignores the concerned look on Cody and Jaimie's faces as they disappear behind the curtain to the back of the plane.

"Coach?" The Latina asks with an inquisitive eyebrow arched.

Sue releases her grip and leans back in her chair in the middle of the three seat aisle. "Sit," she instructs, indicating the row seat beside her since Becky, obviously, gets the window seat.

"But I'm in coach with the rest of the squad," Santana rolls her eyes as she readjusts the strap on her carryon backpack.

"Well, as the head Cheerio that helped win me my sixth consecutive National Championship, I upgraded your ticket to First Class. Sit," Sue instructs again after explaining nonchalantly and, after taking a moment to put her bag in the overhead compartment, Santana does just that…then fixes the older woman with a suspicious look. "So…" she trails off.

"So…" Santana repeats for lack of anything better to say.

Coach Sylvester narrows her eyes at the brunette. "Becky!" She barks to the girl beside her.

"Yes Coach," the girl beside her dutifully replies.

"My notes," she requests with her hand held out expectantly. Becky promptly hands over the notebook before shooting Santana an encouraging smile. "First off, good work and thank you for not making us all look like a group of talentless baboons," she begins, checking that off her list.

"You're welcome?" Santana responds questioningly.

"Secondly, as a reward for winning, the squad has the next two weeks free from practice," Sue checks that off as well.

"That's great," Santana smiles, knowing the squad will be pleased.

"And finally, given the wonders the Bully Whips have had on mine and the squad's reputation, I've decided to branch out. If nothing else it'll help put an end to those rumors about my Cheerios being stupid," Sue smirks and Santana groans at how relentless the other woman is. "A few of the Cheerios, you included, will be volunteered as tutors," she states simply.

Santana breathes a sigh of relief. "So you just want me to tutor some academically challenged students?" She asks for clarification.

"There's just one that I want you to help from one of my AP Calculus classes since you're the only Cheerio actually taking it yourself," Sue says, her straightforward request belied by the presence of her smirk.

"Okay," Santana accepts slowly with trepidation.

"Good, you start Monday after school," Sue replies with a smug, knowing look that makes Santana more than a little uneasy.

* * *

This has gone through numerous edits and revisions. I added some stuff that wasn't in the original version and cut a lot of stuff out that, as much as I liked the scenes/dialogue, they didn't really move the plot forward and only made this longer than necessary. I'm immensely pleased with the prom stuff but a little uncertain about the scenes surrounding the competition.

For the record, the reason why I focus on cheerleading, the competitions and Santana's role as squad captain as much as I do has a lot to do with the fact that I co-captained my high school's cheerleading squad with my best friend. So, yes, as a former cheer captain, I think it's important to give some insight on how much pressure that it puts on a teenage girl...especially when it comes to competitive cheering.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 26 April 2012


	16. With Feelings

**REPOST**: So when I _**first** _uploaded and posted this story, I had the word 'bitch' in the summary...seven months later it was suddenly a problem. Without any warning or any chance to fix the problem Admin decided to just delete the story out of _**nowhere**_. Had they bothered to inform me, I would have gladly changed the summary but they decided "fuck it, let's just delete the whole damn thing"...and they did. Every single one of you guys' reviews, favorites and alerts have been completely wiped out. Yes, they erased all 222 reviews, 190 favorites and 244 alerts. To make matters worse, they suspended my account until June 1 so I couldn't sumbit _**anything** _let alone repost this until now...but not until I went through all 16 chapters to re-insert the page breaks and re-edit over 122000 words...that's 175 pages in Word. So, be warned that the next chapter, which was intended to be done by now, is going to take longer due to this set-back.

**A/N**: This chapter is **Rated M**! If I thought it would make any difference, I would tell underage readers to either skip this chapter or skip the whole '**15 Minutes Later**' scene. However, I know quite a few people reading this are going to be underage and this is merely a formality. See Warnings.

**A/N2**: I apologize for how short this is. The implications at the end of this are how I wanted the last chapter to end but the chapter length was an issue. Basically, the scene mentioned above got away from me a little and, in all honesty, it felt wrong to have this scene and then taint it all in one chapter. I figured I'd let you have this before I come back and ruin Santana's world. More detailed explanation at the end of the chapter.

**Spoilers**: Everything through _Prom Queen_

**WARNINGS**: Underage drinking, explicit sexual content…and epically long End Notes.

* * *

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: With Feelings**

**Saturday – 10:15 pm**

Brittany had waited the whole day to hear from Santana so they could hopefully talk about where they stand, but the Latina never called her back. She and Quinn arrived at the party close to two hours ago in hopes of intercepting Santana when she arrived to keep her from getting overly wasted before they could talk. Unfortunately for the blonde duo, Santana was already there and clearly passed the point of being merely buzzed.

When the Hispanic head Cheerio pulled her boyfriend reluctantly to the makeshift dance floor and started to grind against him suggestively is what made Brittany decide to forget about her and Quinn's self-imposed one drink limit for the night. Obviously Quinn decided to limit herself since she's been hyper-vigilant about her alcohol intake since her pregnancy. In Brittany's case, however, she simply wanted to have a level head if and when she came in contact with Santana. Given their history, the two tend to let their hormones override logic when they've been drinking. As it turns out, getting a 'stripper drunk' together with a 'weepy, emotional, clingy drunk' is not the best idea, who knew? The horny, happy-go-lucky stripper drunk gets even more wound up with a needy drunk clinging to them and, by their very nature, only wants to make the weepy, emotional mess happy again…which leads to sexy times. Then again, that behavior could just be Brittany/Santana-specific.

Glancing lazily around the living room from her spot on the couch, Brittany realizes that it's been a while since she's even seen the Latina. The last time was just after Santana had finished more than a couple Four Horsemen shooters. She vaguely remembers a concerned David asking her if she'd seen his girlfriend not too long ago. Having felt betrayed by the football player because he'd been practically dry-humping _**her**_ Santana on the dance floor, she responded with little more than a shrug…never mind that he had no idea what he'd even done wrong to deserved her attitude. The blonde is only slightly drunk at this point which is to say that she's feeling good, but not so out of control as to start dancing on the table top and taking off her shirt.

It's only by chance that Brittany happens to turn around in time to see Santana stumbling down the stairs with her heels in hand, mascara smudged and hair a tousled mess. Brittany's brows furrow in concern but before she can get up and rush to the smaller girl's side, Santana chooses that moment to look over and lock eyes with the blonde, offering a shy smile as she makes her way over to the taller girl's couch. Brittany's eyes never leave the Latina as she visually checks for anything to indicate that someone had hurt or injured her in any way.

Brittany's concern doesn't begin to lift until Santana unceremoniously drops down next to her on the couch, both tan arms wrapping around the blonde's arm closest to the Latina. Santana's head falls to the taller girl's shoulder and she releases a content sigh.

"You okay, 'Tana?" Brittany finally manages to ask as she brings up her free hand to smooth down some of the hair sticking up on the darker girl's head.

"Yeah, why?" The Latina's low, throaty tone reverberates through the blonde and settles somewhere between her legs.

"Your makeup's a mess and you have sex hair," Brittany explains honestly, earning an amused laugh from the other girl.

"I got tired and decided to take a nap in the bathtub in Steph's en suite and I only came downstairs with my heels off 'cause I was too groggy to try it with them on," Santana explains with a grin.

The dancer feels herself drowning in relief that the Latina didn't just have sex with someone that wasn't, well, _**her**_. She allows herself to relish their close contact, realizing how much she missed it now that she has the petite brunette curled up against her again. Without a second thought, she sets her head on top of Santana's, which is still resting on her shoulder. It is physically impossible to remove the goofy grin from Brittany's face as she idly twirls a lock of dark hair around an index finger.

"This is nice," Santana hums thoughtfully, lips now resting against the blonde's throat.

"Yeah," Brittany agrees wholeheartedly, her eyes somehow catching Quinn's on the other side of the room. The other blonde's brows shoot up into her hairline as she makes out who is getting so snuggly with her friend on the couch and the other girl's resulting smile seems to be responding to the surprised look with an 'I know, right?'. Quinn frowns in disapproval, shaking her head, before turning and walking off. Brittany brushes it off and chalks that look up as being all in her mind.

"Oh, good, you found her," a voice declares from above them both. Brittany looks up to find David standing over them with a look of obvious relief.

"Actually, _**she**_ found _**me**_," Brittany corrects sounding far more defensive than intended…or necessary.

David is taken aback by the blonde's tone because, as familiar as he is with Santana's spectrrum of different drunken personalities, he's only ever known Brittany to have _**one**_ drunken personality and 'angry, jealous drunk' isn't it. "Okay, well, I think I should probably get her home since she looks about ready to pass out," he says cautiously, not wanting to provoke the blonde any more than he inadvertently has already.

"No, we're comfy. I'll take her home when _**she**_ wants me to, you're not her babysitter," Brittany scowls…though she looks less intimidating and more like she's trying to read really tiny writing.

The football player appears torn as he looks back and forth between the two girls. While he doesn't want to upset Brittany, who he has almost started to consider his friend, he also doesn't feel entirely comfortable leaving Santana with the very girl that rejected her in favor of a boy only two months ago.

"It's fine, Davy," Santana speaks up as she senses his dilemma.

"You're sure?" He asks just to be certain before walking away.

"Yeah," the Latina nods with an easy smile.

David knows that there's little he can do at this point without forcing Santana to leave with him and looking like an abusive, jealous, rapist boyfriend to half the school. So, after getting his girlfriend to agree to call him tomorrow, he walks away, shooting a glare towards Quinn for having him approach the two girls in the first place and ignoring the twin looks of sympathy from Cody and Jaimie.

"Hey S, are you ready to go home now or did you wanna stay longer?" Brittany gently asks the girl curled into her side.

In spite of her body telling her that she could spend the rest of her life on this couch, Santana's brain somehow manages to win. "Home," she mumbles before slowly sitting up and stretching.

Skeptically eying the Latina's skimpy black dress, lack of jacket and heels in her lap, Brittany can't help but wonder, "Do you have everything?" as she stands up.

"Mmhmm," Santana nods carefully. "I didn't need to bring anything else," she explains with a careless shrug as she allows the blonde to pull her unsteadily to her feet.

Quinn, noticing the two girls getting up from the couch, an inebriated Santana barely able to even stand unassisted, comes right over. "Leaving so soon?" The very sober former Cheerio asks, trying to keep the accusation out of her tone.

"Britt-Britt's walkin' me home," Santana confirms, staggering slightly as she struggles to stand in one place…even without her heels on.

"Why isn't David walking you home?" Quinn asks ignoring the dark look Brittany is sending her way.

"'Cause I needs to talk to Britts," Santana replies honestly, giggling as she almost loses her balance again and clings on to the taller blonde to remain upright.

"What's your problem Q? The whole point of us coming here was because I needed to talk to San," a mildly less intoxicated Brittany reminds her friend in confusion.

"Without Snix butting into the conversation," Santana adds with a goofy, drunken smile.

"Yeah, without Snix," Brittany nods in agreement with a grin. The shorter blonde rolls her eyes at the mention of Santana's angry, defensive pretend-alter-ego. "God Quinn, she only lives a block away from me, what do expect to happen?" She asks rhetorically with a scoff.

Wordlessly Quinn steps aside. Brittany and Santana walk passed her and out the front door of the house. Neither quite exercising the best of judgment.

* * *

**15 Minutes Later**

Wincing when the door slams shut behind them, the two girls look over at one another before bursting into another uncontrollable fit of laughter, kicking off their shoes. Brittany manages to get control of herself first and she playfully claps a hand over a still laughing Santana's mouth, who's only still standing because she has her back leaning against the door, and presses the index finger of her other hand to her lips.

"Emily and my parents are asleep," Brittany whispers as she tucks a stray lock of hair behind Santana's ear with the hand not covering the Latina's mouth.

A calmed Santana lightly takes Brittany's hand and removes it from her face with a soft smile. "I guess we'll have to be quiet then, won't we?" Santana questions, her voice low and sounding like something akin to a purr resonating from deep within her chest. Her thumb rubs the back of the hand still clasped in her own.

Brittany searches the almost black eyes of the other girl, as if trying to determine if this is something the brunette really wants or if it's simply the result of Santana getting drunk and emotional and needy. She lightly runs a free hand through dark hair, her palm settling on the shorter girl's cheek, as a small smile creeps up her face.

"They're heavy sleepers," she jokes in response after several long moments before invading the shorter girl's personal space. She releases the Latina's hand to reach around and lock her door before both of her hands are planted on it on either side of the Latina, but not actually touching her in any way.

"All the better," Santana murmurs through hooded eyes. Without taking her eyes off of Brittany's, she reaches her hands out blindly only to grip on to the hem of the taller girl's soft t-shirt. Tugging with very little effort, the blonde is drawn closer so that their bodies are flush with Santana pressed between Brittany and the door.

As soon as their bodies collide, so do their lips. Santana's hands slide up her sides to brush against the other girl's cheeks before tangling themselves up in silky blonde hair that she's only been able to _**dream**_ about touching for weeks. Brittany's hands ghost over the smaller girl's curves down to rest on her hips, fingertips inadvertently digging into the Latina's flesh with every gasp or involuntary twitch from either of them.

When Brittany pulls away, panting heavily against the other girl's mouth, a tug at her hair is all that keeps her from going in for more. Santana pushes the girl slightly away and, before Brittany can protest, it's immediately silenced when the Latina reaches down to grip the hem of her top before yanking it up and over her head so fast that the force in which she flings the shirt into oblivion is enough to make her nearly lose her balance. Brittany immediately reaches out to steady her, both girls feeling a spike in their growing arousal at the feel of the blonde's hands on Santana's hot, supple skin.

The moan that erupts from the Latina surprises them both, but they soon recover enough for Brittany's hands to start moving again, more frantically this time. It's like she's trying to access every memory she has of this body – and she has _**plenty**_ of memories tucked away – as well as committing every moment of _**this**_ to memory as though this is her last chance to do so…just in case it _**is**_.

"Off," Santana grunts as she pulls up on the hem of the back of the blonde's shirt, the awkward angle making it so that the blonde has to bend over at the waist for the shirt to get pulled off. She then forces Brittany to walk backwards towards her bed, thankful that the taller girl left the light on her nightstand on so she can navigate the mess already scattered on the floor…but still swaying and staggering somewhat.

Landing into a seated position on the end of her bed, Brittany stops the brunette from falling over, _**or**_ straddling her, by holding her back with her hands on the other girl's hips. She recalls the uncomfortably potent and unfortunately all-too-familiar taste of whiskey on the Latina's lips and in her mouth. Unconsciously, she licks her lips for any of the residual taste that she so closely associates with the other girl.

"Are you sure you want to do this 'Tana?" Brittany asks, her voice sweet and soft as she tenderly runs her hands up and down the other girl's sides, hoping to convey that it would be perfectly acceptable if the brunette wanted to stop while they still can.

Santana fixes her gaze on the blonde's lips to avoid her eyes. The taller girl's words feel like they're a potential trigger for a drunken emotional breakdown, but she doesn't want Brittany to see that because, well, then she'd put a halt to what they're doing. No one has ever stopped when things started to get heated to ask if she was sure…_**except**_ Brittany. Brittany asked if she was sure before they slept together for the first time as well as for every other time after…and even now, when their relationship is admittedly beyond screwed up. As it stands, Santana feels as though she's left the blonde with no reason to care about her feelings anymore considering how much she's been disregarding the blonde's feelings for as long as she has.

Draping her arms over the seated blonde's shoulders and locking her hands behind her neck, Santana leans down until her lips just barely graze the other girl's. "Please," she whispers breathily against her lips, desperation and lust evident in her tone.

Her own hormones – and earlier alcohol consumption – clouding her judgment, Brittany's resolve weakens…along with her hold on the smaller girl's waist holding her back. That's all it takes for Santana to unlock her hands behind the other girl's neck so she can place them on her shoulders and push her until she's laying on her back. Santana wastes no time hiking her skirt up enough that she can straddle the prone dancer's hips.

Slapping Brittany's wandering hands away with a smirk, Santana doesn't hesitate to whip off her bra and make it another statistic in the growing list of things that have been carelessly thrown around the room tonight. She hesitates for a moment, as though her actions and self-consciousness about her being naked from the waist up are finally catching up to her. It's impossible not to feel a surge of insecurity and shame as she thinks about the breast implants she's had removed since the last time they did this and whether or not Brittany preferred them when they were bigger. Shaking her head slightly, she decides that she and Brittany are both drunk enough that she doesn't have to worry about the blonde judging her body since this will all be a fuzzy memory in a few short hours. Her eyes drift closed and a sigh of relief slips passed her lips at the sensation of warm hands almost as familiar to her as her own palming her exposed breasts. This is the first time anyone's touched her in an even remotely intimate way since, well, Brittany right before _Landslide_...not that she can admit as much without risking exposing the nature of her and David's 'relationship'. When the aforementioned hands begin to massage the Latina's breasts slowly and carefully, almost reverently, a soft gasp escapes followed by a moan of pleasure.

This jolts Santana back to reality and she covers the hands attached to her chest, pulling them away and making quick work of Brittany's bra, brightly colored so as to fit her personality…bright teal this time. Once the blonde's bra has been discarded over her shoulder, the Latina, still refusing to make eye contact, takes her turn to grope the girl beneath her. She relishes the feel of the pale girl's luscious breasts in her hands, her skin hot to the touch in her aroused state. Kneading and manipulating Brittany's breasts, inadvertently teasing her nipples in her palms, Santana notices how labored the blonde's breathing has become as she subtly writhes under the Latina's hips pressed up against her groin, a thin sheen of sweat clearly visible on her face, neck and torso.

For the first time since they started kissing, Santana drags her eyes back up to meet the taller girl's. Brittany's shining blue eyes stare back up into her own, looking at her like she's the most beautiful and amazing creature ever to walk the earth. Idly, the blonde's hands affectionately trace the curves of the smaller girl's ribs, thankfully no longer starkly visible under dark skin though still far too prominent for her liking. Quickly, Santana's eyes dart away before the other girl can see how insecure, scared and conflicted she feels.

Santana releases the blonde's breasts and sits back on her heels, still straddling her body. With the excessive alcohol in her system beginning to let up, she knows there isn't much time if she wants to do this because like hell does she think she can handle it sober. Making her decision a moment later and not wanting to lose her place on top, she stretches back to lean over and click the light off, bathing the pair in darkness. Somehow the room seems quieter now with their heavy breathing as the only sound. The Latina remains still, her body tensed, as she waits for Brittany to make her next move.

There are a great many things about Santana that no one knows, Brittany usually being the sole exception. One such thing that would come as a big shock to just about everyone is that _**every **_time Brittany and Santana have been 'intimate', it was Brittany on top and/or telling the other girl what to do. Santana has always happily relinquished control to the blonde due to her infinite trust in her. Not once has she ever had a desire to top the other girl…despite occasionally draping herself over the blonde to initiate a make-out session with endgame being sexytimes.

All of that being said, it is more than a little surprising that the blonde has yet to take over, content to trace the Latina's ribs with feather-light touches, encouragingly brush her hands over her back, sides and stomach before caressing the girl's thighs affectionately in reassurance before reversing the process and working her way back up as she waits patiently. Santana cautiously allows herself to relax against the other girl and adjust her positioning so she's leaning over her. She searches Brittany's moonlit face for a moment only to be met with the other girl's shy, disarming smile, both straightforward and sincere.

The Latina decides to just go with it before she has a chance to sober up and clear her head just enough to talk herself out of what she's doing or about to do. Without further ado, Santana dips her head back down to meet the dancer's lips in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. Soon enough their desperation and lust reach a breaking point and Santana pries her lips from the blonde's to focus all of her attention on fumbling with removing the other girl's jeans.

Before their fallout, Brittany wouldn't be able to care less if she and Santana were fully clothed or partially clothed or completely naked when they were hooking up. Now, however, Brittany can't seem to tear the Latina's underwear off fast enough, gritting her teeth when the skirt's zipper keeps getting stuck. As sexy as Brittany's always found it to be when the Latina is wearing nothing but a skirt (Cheerio or otherwise) as her body arches up into her mouth or hand as she hits her peak, now all Brittany wants is to feel as much of the darker girl's bare skin against her own as possible. When she finally liberates the girl from her skirt, she proceeds to finish removing her own jeans, Santana already having gotten them off as best she could considering she was still pretty much sitting on her lap. Not bothering with using her hands, Brittany simply uses her feet and legs to kick and push her pants off all the way.

Wasting no more time, Santana immediately lets her whole body press up against the lithe blonde's and both involuntarily release a noise best described as a cross between a relieved sigh and a moan. Hands tightly gripping the biceps of the blonde beneath her, Santana allows her head to drop into the crook of the other girl's shoulder as she regains her bearings. Brittany whimpers at the intense intimacy and the way the smaller girl's breathing sends sparks of arousal throughout her body. Though only slightly limited by the grip on her upper arms, Brittany still brings her hands up to the darker girl's sides, gently scraping her nails lightly along the increasingly sensitive skin.

Brittany's hands still and her breath catches in her throat as her eyes involuntary slip shut, her hips instinctively buck against the Latina. The hot, wet tongue gently dragging along the ultra-stimulated skin of her throat, licking up the thin layer of sweat clinging to her had startled her and increased the heat between them tenfold. Still, she refused to push anything between them. Santana has obviously been trying to keep her distance, both physically and emotionally, since she rejected her after _Landslide_. So in a way Brittany feels that it's only fair that the Latina be the one to dictate how far they go and at what pace this time around.

Teeth sinking into her neck elicits an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak from the blonde, her hips rolling up frantically at the overwhelming flood of arousal as she desperately seeks any friction that could relieve the painful throbbing between her legs. The Latina's tongue soothes over the bite, a deep throaty chuckle rumbling out of somewhere deep in her chest reverberates through the blonde beneath her at her mercy. A whimpering Brittany is far too turned on to be mortified by how wet she is as she continues to try and rock her body against something, _**anything**_ other than air.

Removing her hands from the blonde's biceps and detaching her mouth from her neck, Santana places her hands on the mattress between Brittany's arms and torso. She lifts her body up just enough to gaze into deep blue eyes, her own almost entirely black with arousal. The small space formed between them from the movement is enough for a deep ache to settle in Brittany's chest. To remedy this, she wraps her arms around the smaller girl's upper back as she digs her nails into tan flesh and pulls Santana's body tightly against her once more. Santana curls her own arms up under the blonde's body, gripping tightly on to her shoulders to keep their bodies flush with their lips crashing together in another bruising kiss.

That familiar _**need**_ to be _**so**_ close to one another that they actually melt into the same body overrides both of their senses. Aligning their hips and shifting so she's straddling only one of the other girl's legs, Santana brings her left hand behind her and slides it over the thigh she's straddling, stopping just above her knee. Slipping her hand under the leg between her own, Santana urges Brittany to hook the blonde's left leg over the back of the Latina's right one. Brittany recognizes this position well considering how much time she and Santana have 'practiced' it themselves with the only difference being that she's used to their roles being reversed. Given how well-acquainted she is with this position, she knows what Santana's next move would be when the other girl was where she is now and just the thought alone almost makes her whimper.

Brittany curls her right leg up and over the back of Santana's left leg, the one wedged between the blonde's causing them to moan into each other's mouth through their kiss. By now both of their bodies are slick with sweat making it ridiculously easy for the dancer to slide her right leg up until it's just under the back of a tan thigh, not noticing Santana doing the same thing with her own right leg. Their tangled legs serve to open the girls up fully to one another while simultaneously pressing the thigh between their respective legs right into their core.

Their lips pull apart as they both gasp at the contact they've been so desperately been seeking followed by groans of relief and frustration, relieved at the desired contact and frustration of the increasing arousal at said contact. Fingers tighten against shoulders and nails dig deeper into a back as they brace themselves, letting their bodies take over. Though no longer kissing, their foreheads are pressed together with eyes shut in concentration, noses brushing and lips grazing as they begin to thrust against each other.

Breathing in sharply through their noses with every other thrust, they inhale an intoxicating blend of oxygen and one another's scent. Every exhale is a moan or a grunt breathed out into each other's mouth. Settling into an intense pace, their sweat-slicked bodies locked intimately together seem to glide together with ease and they open their eyes into hooded slits at the same time, inadvertently making contact.

"Santana," Brittany breathes out into the darker girl's mouth, wanting – no, _**needing**_ to say her full name out loud, to feel the way the name dances across her tongue and flows from her lips. With their senses heightened to superhuman levels, the blonde can practically see the name caress the flushed tan cheek of the girl above her before floating off into the abyss. The blonde gasps as she feels the soaked thigh rocking against her center tense up pleasurably as their pace picks up.

Santana pushes herself more firmly against the girl in her arms, almost afraid to maintain eye contact but even more petrified to break it. The look in the blonde's sky blue eyes when she says her name nearly causes the Latina to falter as it becomes increasingly difficult breathe. She blames the water pooling in her eyes on the fact that she hasn't blinked in almost 90 seconds. It's not like she's about to _**cry**_ or anything.

Their inherent synchronicity causes them both to wordlessly speed up their undulating hips as though by silent agreement. As they increase their thrusting to a frantic pace, the sounds tumbling from their lips become more desperate as well. Moans and groans escalate into grunts and growls. With their bodies as wrapped together as close as humanly possible, penetration and long strokes aren't exactly options. Intensity and intimacy are the defining features of this position since their bodies have to work as one for any kind of satisfying stimulation. It only proves how in tune they are that this position has only ever resulted in simultaneous climaxes…their cries of release usually grunted out with eyes squeezed shut and faces buried in each other's shoulder.

This time, eyes just as locked together as their bodies, breathing each other in and breathing out into each other's mouth, Santana knows that it's different in a way that has nothing to do with her being on top. Half-closed sky blue eyes seem to penetrate Santana deeper than any boy ever could…in _**any**_ context and, for the first time, she decides to just accept it instead of denying it and dying a little more inside from doing so. More than anything, the Latina wants to tell the girl under her, the girl that's loved her so unconditionally for all these years, everything that she's been trying so hard to hide from the world for so long. She opens her mouth to do just that but all words seem to evaporate from her vocabulary. Except one.

"Britt," Santana's voice wavers, cracking at the end the name barely having managed to slip out at all thanks to the constricting force that seems to have wrapped around her throat.

Brittany's eyes widen slightly, her body forcefully rocking up into the smaller body rolling down. She is terrified of the darker girl breaking eye contact and almost removes a hand latched into the girl's back to force the Latina to keep looking at her, both hands slipping down the sweat-soaked tan back due to that hesitation as she teeters right on the edge. Thankfully she soon discovers removing a hand wouldn't have been necessary since the blonde's responding thrust of her hips proves to be Santana's undoing…in more ways than one. After holding everything back for so long, it all comes rushing out at once.

"I love you," Santana sobs as the dam breaks, her breath catching in her throat as she suddenly finds herself tumbling into sensory overload.

In response, Brittany's body stills, completely taut in anticipation and her nails sink deeper into the overheated flesh of the darker girl. All at once, she's breathless and drowning as she drags Santana with her into the undertow. Their teeth collide awkwardly, cutting into each other's lips in their rush to swallow one another's cries of release.

They remain locked together, limbs too stiff to pull apart as they continue to ride out their own and each other's aftershocks. Santana whimpers when an unanticipated spasm causes Brittany to arch up into her, putting excessive force on her overly-sensitized center. A minute or two passes and they can feel their heart beats reaching something resembling normal as their breaths even out. Their lips disconnect making a muted sound similar to that of a suction cup being pulled off a car window in the process, but their foreheads remain pressed together and their unfocused gazes remain fixed on each other.

A pleased sigh of contentment escapes the blonde as her body is the first to go lax. Her arms weakly drop to the mattress as her legs unhook themselves from the backs of the Latina's. Running her hands up Santana's shoulders and neck she cups her face in her pale, trembling hands to brush her lips against the other girl's.

"I love you too," Brittany exhales as she breathes a kiss into Santana's mouth.

A satisfied hum rumbles up from Santana's chest and erupts sensually from her throat, a genuine smile forming on her lips as her eyes drift closed and she affectionately nuzzles her nose against the side of the blonde's. She brushes her nose down the side of the other girl's face, their cheeks pressing together. Santana shifts so she's laying slightly on her right side, the front of her body still pressing up against Brittany's left side. Her right arm remains curled up under the taller girl's left arm, still gripping her shoulder but lightly now. The Latina's left hand buries itself in a tangle of blonde sweat-dampened hair and idly sliding a bare foot against the calf of the blonde's left leg, 'trapped' between both of Santana's.

Brittany can feel herself being lulled into a sleepy haze as she begins to drift off…until the foot rubbing against her leg abruptly stops and Santana's head shifts. Blonde brows furrow at the other girl's behavior and she turns to the Latina quizzically only to be met with a pair of eyebrows familiarly quirked in amusement.

"What?" Brittany inquires, blushing though she has no idea why.

"We just had ridiculously hot sex," Santana murmurs earning an eager nod and a grin from the taller girl. "_**Naked**_ sex," she elaborates, earning a hum of agreement, before glancing down to the tangle of feet at the end of the bed, "…unless you still wearing your Hello Kitty socks counts," she smirks, placing a light kiss on the blushing blonde's cheek before rolling over to lie on her back, wincing slightly from the marks Brittany's nails left there.

It's Brittany's turn to roll onto her side and curl up against the other girl. She rests her head on a tan shoulder, drapes her right leg across narrow hips and idly traces patterns on the slightly concave expanse of the smaller girl's stomach, fascinated by the ripples under the skin created by muscles and nerves reacting to her light touch.

"You got me these socks for my birthday a couple months ago before…" the blonde quietly trails off, not wanting to bring up anything leading to their fallout considering what happened moments ago.

"I know," Santana whispers, shuddering as fingertips dance up past her ribs and trace the curve under her left breast and, inadvertently, her surgery scar as well.

"I'm glad you had them removed," the blonde admits, relieved at finally being able to voice it out loud to the smaller girl.

Santana closes her eyes tight and slowly breathes out through her nose. Deep down she wants to say 'me too', but what she says is, "I know," for a second time.

Brittany says nothing as she chooses to reacquaint herself with the Latina's body instead, this time without being under the heavy fog of lust from before. She grins brightly now that she's fully able to appreciate that she's able to cup Santana's entire breast in her hand again for the first time in eight months. Following the smaller girl's 'summer surgery', most of what the blonde had been groping when feeling her up had been artificial, the implant covering up the majority of the real Santana. It always felt wrong not being able to hold the other girl's full breast in her hand. Now that the implants are gone, she can fully appreciate how much she loves the darker girl's body just the way it is and she vows never to take it for granted again. Then again, she'd prefer it if the girl would gain back the weight she seems to have lost since the last time their naked bodies had been writhing against one another, but other than that? Perfect.

The blonde shudders a little at the cool sensation accompanying the rapidly drying sweat on her skin and she can feel the other girl doing the same. Regretfully, she pulls out of Santana's embrace to retrieve the blankets pooled at the end of her bed from when she refused to make her bed when she woke up this morning and pulls them up. Lying back on her side, Brittany reaches her right arm across to grip onto Santana's left hip and gently pull.

"C'mere," the sleepy dancer urges. Santana rolls onto her side as well so that she's now face to face with the other girl. "Hi," Brittany smiles shyly, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind the other girl's ear when they settle comfortably together again, their bodies flush and legs entwined once more.

"Hi," Santana responds softly, her left hand swirling small circles on a pale hip. She shifts a little lower so she can comfortably tuck her head under the blonde's chin, her face angled so her nose is pressed into the hollow of the other girl's throat.

Brittany pulls her head back just enough to press a light, affectionate kiss to the brunette's forehead before returning it to where it was. Moments later and she feels the remaining tension seep out of the girl in her arms as her breathing evens out. She shifts so the side of her face is buried in the top of the other girl's head without managing to disturb the sleeping girl.

Only now with the other girl unconscious does she feel confident enough to mutter, "Tú eres mi alma gemela," into Santana's hair. Her pronunciation perfect after having grown up around Spanish with its frequent usage in the Latina's home back when her parents were still around and from when she would accompany the other girl to visit her grandparents as well.

Brittany's been practicing saying that ever since that interview where Santana told Jewfro that David was her soul mate. The blonde wanted to make sure she got it right when she corrected her and told Santana that she is _**Brittany's**_ soul mate instead. Somehow, she imagines that it would mean more if said in Spanish rather than English. She releases a shuddering sigh as she thinks about how much she wishes she and Santana were in a place in their relationship where she can say those words proudly and openly to the other girl while she's awake and completely sober.

Tightening her hold around the girl in her arms, Brittany can't help but worry about the scent of whiskey clinging to Santana and what it might mean for them by morning. With the high of her climax no longer clouding her judgment, she knows that she would be foolish to think that sleeping together – _making love_ – is going to fix everything and make it all better again. She acknowledges that it was probably a mistake, but the selfish part of her admits that she doesn't care because she's wanted it to happen for so long now. Deeply inhaling the other girl's scent into her nose, she closes her eyes and hopes that Santana doesn't freak out again in the morning before allowing herself to succumb to sleep.

Santana, for her part, has her eyes clenched shut to keep the tears at bay. For some reason it was even harder to hear Brittany declaring her to be her soul mate than to say that she loves her back. The pain in her chest is all she needs in order to know that she's sobering up. She tries to bury her face further into the blonde's neck in a futile attempt to hide from the intrusive thoughts that sobriety tends to bring with it. Doubts, insecurities, panic, self-loathing. To ground herself, she lightly brushes her lips against the creamy skin of the girl wrapped around her protectively.

* * *

**The Next Morning**

The hammering of tiny, sadistic elves behind her orbital and nasal cavities stirs the Latina into unwelcome consciousness. Their persistence elicits a small groan from her lips, but she refuses to acknowledge them and stubbornly keeps her eyes shut in defiance…to no avail. Mean little fuckers.

Knowing that opening her eyes would likely result in her eyes melting out of their sockets, Santana chooses to assess the state of her body without the visual for now. First thing she notices is that the inside of her mouth has that weird, disgusting cottony-gummy feeling to it that's paradoxically both dried out and sticky, like a cotton ball that's been rolled in partially dried Elmer's glue. This is to be expected since it's indicative of excessive drinking, which she knows she indulged in thanks to those vicious Hangover Elves grinding the inside of her skull into Fairy Dust…or whatever.

As her hearing manages to turn itself back on, she becomes aware of faint voices wafting up from…somewhere. Three of them. She catches herself before she can wrench her eyes open because she knows she'd immediately regret it. Despite having the evidence indicating that she's somewhere other than her own home, she manages to avoid panic due to the fact that the voices are familiar even if she can't immediately place them.

Scent: the first sense that doesn't immediately elicit panic (hearing) or disgust (taste). If anything, this is the first thing this morning that's managed to bring her some degree of comfort. It's subtle but somehow still manages to surround her. Once again, it's something painfully familiar that she can't seem to place.

Santana consciously takes stock of her body, trying to sense if the soft sheets covering her body rub anything uncomfortably. With a frown and quiet hiss, she feels the sheet painfully brush against her back. Taking note, she continues her blind inventory of the damage from the night before. An uneasy sensation fills her stomach when she realizes that _**everything**_ seems to hurt. Well, _**ache**_ would be more accurate, but that isn't the point. There is a burning or soreness in her arms, shoulders, neck, abs, upper _**and**_ lower back, hips and thighs. Still, underneath the discomfort and minor pain, she can feel a satisfied hum coursing through her body that tells her that it was all worth it.

Focusing outwards, the sheets against her skin tell her that she's naked, which isn't exactly a surprise all things considered. Moving her head ever so slightly, Santana realizes that her pillow was another person's shoulder with her face tucked into said person's neck. Anxiety wells up in her chest as she becomes aware of the soft skin under her left palm. Her right arm is slightly numb under her body and curled up under the body under her, gripping the left shoulder beneath her head. Shifting her legs slightly, she can feel the strong muscle twitching underneath the smooth skin of her companion's thigh. That satisfied hum immediately escalates into a heady rush resulting in a low, embarrassing moan.

Santana bites her bottom lip and forces herself to try and remember the night before, though she can probably guess at this point. Flashes of liquor, beautiful blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and pale pink lips dance through her mind. Everything else is a blur of teeth and tongues clashing, clothes haphazardly discarded, sweat-slicked skin gliding against sweat-slicked skin and breathy moans. She chooses to ignore the desperately confessed declarations of love, sweet words and intimate touches exchanged in the aftermath and post-coital cuddling.

No longer able to keep putting it off, Santana reluctantly opens her eyes. She is not the least bit surprised to find herself cuddled up to Brittany's side, the sleeping blonde curled slightly towards her with a protective hand loosely placed on her shoulder. The taller girl's mouth is parted open just a little, her lips curled up in a subtle smile. Pastel blue sheets blatantly declare this to be Brittany's bed, though the sounds of the house gave that away long before.

Her attention back to the voices she heard earlier, places them as belonging to the Pierce's. She can just slap herself at how obvious it is now. Then, realization hits her lick a Mack truck. It's Sunday. Easter Sunday. Not only could one of Brittany's parents barge in at any time to wake the blonde, but her little sister could too. Even worse is that she has to be at her abuela's this morning for Easter Mass. Here comes the panic.

Glancing over Brittany, Santana is relieved to see that it's only 5:20 so she has plenty of time to make the 5 minute walk back home, shower, get ready and go to her abuela's house. However, the hard part is getting out of the Pierce's home first.

Carefully extricating herself from the blonde's embrace, Santana slips out of the bed. Immediately missing the warmth of the bed and the other girl, she shivers slightly while holding her breath as Brittany stirs at the loss of her bed partner. The naked Latina picks a discarded pillow up off the floor and slips it into the other girl's arms before pulling the blanket up to cover her bare shoulders.

Quickly and quietly, Santana sets herself on retrieving her clothes from last night. She pulls her bra, shirt and skirt on as she comes across them. Whipping her head around frantically, she blushes when she spots her panties loosely draped over a picture frame on Brittany's dresser. Snatching them up, she slips them back on and her hands smooth the skirt back down with as much dignity she can muster.

Santana looks around to make sure she has everything as she combs her fingers through her hair. Her hand pauses as she stares at the desk. Lord Tubbington is right there, laying with his front paws tucked under her chest, sleepy eyes are barely open slits as he blinks lazily at the Latina.

"Don't judge me, Tubbs," Santana mutters to the large cat, only mildly disturbed that he was in here with them when they were going at it, but it's not like it's the first time that's happened. With another lazy blink, he rolls onto his side and stretches his front paws out. Sighing, the brunette walks over to the desk and rubs the belly of the obese feline, smiling slightly when he starts purring.

The Latina reluctantly decides that she's too hungover to risk escaping through the blonde's window. That, unfortunately, means that her only other option is to leave out the front door and possibly being confronted with the Pierces.

Leaving the happy cat, Santana picks her shoes up by the door before unlocking it. After one last look at the peacefully sleeping blonde with a smile still glued to her face, the Latina takes a deep breath and opens the bedroom door. With any luck she'll be able to escape unnoticed.

"'Tana?"

Well, fuck. So much for _**that**_ idea.

* * *

First off, the shooter briefly mentioned in the beginning of this, the Four Horsemen, is real and is widely regarded as being the shot of choice for people that hate their livers (and themselves). It is four different whiskeys, the four Js: Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Jameson and Johnnie Walker Red (I prefer JW Black). This used to be my shot of choice (and I'm smaller than Santana). Anyways, two Four Horsemen would cause an average-drinking adult male to blackout, throw up or pass out. Imagine what they would do to a frequently drinking, petite Latina.  
As another aside, I would like to add that I don't agree with most people writing Santana as not liking Lord Tubbington. I don't know where that idea came from so I decided to go in the opposite direction.

Honestly, the sex scene was meant to only be about a page long and end before either of them were actually braless. However, I didn't want the scene to end with the implication that they had drunk meaningless sex. I wanted to infuse _**some**_ emotion and maybe some intensity as well. What I seemed to do was dive into their sexual dynamic as they were going through the motions. The scene ended up being a lot deeper (I hope) than I'd intended, even when planning this story out.

I've never written a genuine sex scene before (that wasn't a parody), but I knew I wanted it to be different from those I've read in the past. I wanted it to be realistic (as with the rest of the story) and detailed enough that one could easily picture it the way I did in my head…but without being vulgar or unnecessarily graphic. Being no stranger to sex myself (my sexual history with would likely psychologically scar many of you) so don't think I'm a prude when I say that I find the use of words such as 'pussy', 'boobs' and 'cum' to be distasteful. I feel as though they detract from the narrative and I find them entirely juvenile.

My point is I wanted to write something tasteful and meaningful without losing any of its heat or wasting an entire chapter on subpar writing. I'd like to think that this was more than _**just**_ a sexual encounter but also something of a big, emotional wake-up call for Santana…and an exploration of their sexual history together. I sincerely hope that this wasn't a huge disappointment to those of you expecting the intense angst I've been hinting at that was meant to take place in this chapter. I worry that my descriptions of their position might not be written well enough so as not to be confusing. It would also kind of hurt if the whole thing came across as little more than Porn-Without-Plot/Point.

The next chapter will definitely be the one that I've been waiting to get to since I started this and, maybe, this was my way of procrastinating because I'm afraid it'll be a disappointment. The good news for you is that I will be able to include a scene in the next chapter that I would've had to cut due to length issues.  
Since I feel bad about ending this chapter where I did and most of it being in the context of a sexual encounter, I'll let you know that the scene I would've had to cut is one with Santana and her _**abuela**_ (!), who doesn't exactly help things.  
The next chapter will be called '**Betrayal**', which should be a hint of what to expect. Those that Santana will feel betrayed by include: Brittany, Quinn, David and Sue. Like this chapter, the next will also have a higher rating, but for vastly different reasons.

Sorry for the End Notes being so long. Let me know what you think of this chapter if you can. I'm actually pretty anxious about whether or not I did okay. I don't think I've read any sex scene structured like this, so…if possible, let me know what you think in a Review or PM – if you feel like it, of course.

_**ORIGINAL POSTING**** DATE**_: 14 May 2012


	17. Betrayal

Finally an actual update! I hope the length makes up for the wait. Also, thank you for bearing with me on this. The whole thing with having this story deleted like it was put me off finishing this chapter for far too long and I apologize since this is the chapter where everything seems to fall apart at once.

**A/N**: The scene with Santana and her abuela is the one that would have had to have been cut if I'd combined the events of this chapter with last chapter. I'd also expanded the original versions of most, if not all, of the scenes in this one as well.

**A/N2**: The end of this chapter packs quite a punch so the notes I usually have at the end to explain why I did some of the things I did is instead on my profile page…though I encourage you to read the chapter first. The short note at the end is to keep from spoiling anyone that reads the notes in the profile first anyways.

**Spoilers**: Anything before _Funeral_

**WARNINGS**: Language, angst, Santana's abuela, angst…actually, if you've read this far into the story without flipping out, then you'll probably survive this chapter as well…hopefully…

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Betrayal**

Carefully clicking the door behind her shut, Santana manages to force a smile as she turns around. "Hey Ems," she greets the eight year old girl, trying not to cringe at how gravelly her voice sounds.

The small blonde grins at the confirmation of the other girl's identity before wrapping her arms around the Latina's waist. "I'm glad you and Britt made up," Emily mumbles into the older girl's skirt.

"Yeah," Santana breathes out, a surge of guilt hitting her square in the chest at the lie as she affectionately runs her fingers through the smaller girl's hair.

"Come down and have breakfast. Mom and Dad are already up," the youngest Pierce grins as she pulls away, grabbing a tan hand and dragging the other girl behind her.

Santana is pretty sure she's going to be sick. The feeling only growing the closer she gets to the kitchen. "Look who I found!" Emily announces proudly as she pulls the Latina in behind her, interrupting whatever conversation the adults might've been having.

"Oh! Santana, you're _**finally**_ back," Anne Pierce chuckles as she stands up and pulls the petite girl into a warm hug.

"Our Britt-Britt has been insufferable lately without you," Andrew Pierce unwittingly piles on the guilt, making Atlas holding the weight of the world look like little more than a backpack compared to what Santana is feeling right now.

"Is she still asleep? Usually during your sleepovers the two of you crawl out of bed at the same time around the crack of noon," Anne comments, laughing at her own joke.

"No, she's still asleep. I didn't want to wake her since I'm due back home soon," is the Latina's uncharacteristically soft reply, subtly hinting that she needs to leave.

"Well, it's good that your parents are back. I always hate to think of you alone in that big house all the time," the older woman shakes her head at the thought, unconsciously rubbing her hands up and down the other girl's arms even though they're no longer hugging.

"There's also my abuela. We have to be at Easter Mass at seven this morning," Santana pointedly tells them, trying not to sound too defensive and not bothering to correct Brittany's mother about her parents being back in town.

"Surely you have time to eat. I swear you're too thin, Sweetheart," Anne frowns as she thinks about how she felt the girl's ribs pressing against her during their brief hug.

"Not this time. Abuela always makes a big meal though after Mass so I'll be fine," Santana reassures the two people she's always thought of as better parents to her than her own. At least this bit isn't a lie since her abuela _**does**_ likes to feed everyone that passes through her front door.

"Fair enough," Mrs. Pierce says after scrutinizing the Latina for a moment to determine whether or not she's telling the truth. "Unless you and your parents have plans, feel free to come by later. It's been too long since you girls have had one of your sleepovers," she is sure to add.

"Um, I actually have plans today, so I don't think so," Santana vaguely explains, trying to get out of it while avoiding suspicion, cringing at sounding so nervous.

"I'm guessing those plans are with that boyfriend of yours," Mr. Pierce mentions with a knowing half-smile, grinning when he notices the surprised look on her face. "Brittany may have mentioned him once or twenty-seven times," he answers the unasked question, amusement written all over his face as he thinks about his oldest daughter's poorly concealed jealousy.

Not knowing what to make of the fact that Brittany talks about David to her parents, Santana says nothing. The older Pierce's have given no indication as to what kind of impression the blonde has given her parents in regards to the Latina's beard. Emily senses the darker girl's growing discomfort and has an idea of the cause…even if it's wrong.

"Don't worry 'Tana, we all think Dave's really nice. He's like a giant teddy bear. Katie and I barely let him move when they were over to watch you win the Cheerleading Nationals," the little girl giggles as she thinks about how she and her friend flanked the larger boy on the living room couch and pretty much used him as a giant pillow.

"He came over here?" Santana questions in genuine surprise, hangover momentarily forgotten as she considers the implications of this. She ignores the subtle look of unease Brittany's parents share at the revelation that neither their daughter nor Santana's boyfriend told her that themselves.

"Oh yeah. Quinn, Dave and Katie spent most of Spring Break here last week so we could watch you and hang out. Davy's totally an honorary member of the Unholy Trinity…I guess that would make you guys the Unholy Quartet now, huh?" The eight year old babbles happily.

"Sounds like you guys had a lot of fun," the Latina forces a smile, cringing internally at the slightly tremulous quality to her voice at the end as she tries to keep her emotions in check.

"Totally. He and Britt-Britt are, like, good friends now and-"

"Ems, maybe you should go wake up your sister now," Mrs. Pierce cuts her youngest daughter off mid-sentence as she senses the older girl becoming increasingly upset the more the little girl continues.

"Buuuuut _**Mooooom**_…"Emily whines as she steps closer to the brunette and unconsciously squeezes the older girl's hand tighter, not wanting to let the other girl leave so soon.

"Now, please," Anne firmly tells the little girl.

After shooting a dark look at her mother, Emily looks up at Santana and tugs on her still captive hand. "Wanna come wake Britty up with me 'Tana?" She asks, her eyes twinkling with hope…and mischief.

"Sorry Emmy," Santana offers the girl that she's always thought of as her own little sister a sad smile full of regrets that the eight year old is too young to fully understand the meaning of. "I need to get home," she adds as a vague explanation.

Emily narrows her eyes in a similar way to how she's seen the older girl do it when she's about to turn into Snix and go all 'Lima Heights', but she mostly looks as menacing as a frustrated kitten. "Fine," she snits as she pulls her hand away, not the least bit moved by Santana using her familiar affectionate nickname, before turning and stomping up the stairs bemoaning how mean everyone is.

Santana's eyes follow the small blonde as she wonders why nobody thought to tell her how Dave, Quinn and Brittany were all somehow best friends for life now as if she wouldn't want to know…as if she didn't have a _**right**_ to know. She doesn't realize that she's murmuring her thoughts out loud until Andrew Pierce clears his throat to get her attention.

"You just got home yesterday. I'm sure it just hasn't crossed anyone's mind yet considering the level of excitement around here about the Cheerios' sixth consecutive Nationals win," he offers reasonably and with a kind smile while his wife nods in agreement.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," Santana agrees unconvincingly and forces a smile of her own that looks more like a grimace than anything. "I need to get going," she says, just as much for them as it is to remind herself that she can't stay. "Happy Easter," she remembers to add before turning to leave.

"If you wait a moment you'll be able to say goodbye to Brittany before you go," Anne offers in a playful tone that's purpose seems to be to entice the Latina into spending a little more time there.

Anxiously pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Santana nervously glances over at the time on the oven before darting her eyes back to the stairs in thought.

* * *

Happiness surges in her chest at the warm smile her girlfriend shoots her from the chair next to her own, scooted as close together as possible, before throwing her head back and filling the room with her rich laughter at something silly she says just to get that very reaction. The darker girl doesn't hesitate to lean into her and plant a sweet, affectionate kiss on her lips, still smiling into her mouth. Tan arms wrap around the pale arm closest to her before resting her head on the taller girl's shoulder, not giving a second thought to the subtle attention given to them from the rest of the glee club.

Honestly, this is what Brittany wanted all along. The encouraging and supportive smiles of the rest of the club were obviously expected all things considered. It may have taken Santana a while to figure it out and accept what Brittany has been trying to tell her since their freshman year, but better late than never.

She gently pulls her arm out of the Latina's grasp, offering a comforting and loving smile when dark eyes look up at her in confusion before Brittany wraps both of her arms around the smaller girl. Santana cuddles further into her body, both arms slipping around her waist. Soon enough, oblivious to their classmates and Mr. Schue discussing this week's assignment, the Latina starts to place soft, wet kisses along Brittany's collarbone while her left hand wanders down her hip and slips up her Cheerio skirt to lightly trace small circles on her thigh as it makes its way up.

"Hey, Britt?" The familiar low, smoky tone of a highly aroused Santana Lopez vibrates her inquiry against the column of the taller girl's throat.

"Hmm?" The obviously distracted dancer hums in response, wondering when her eyes slipped shut in the first place.

A moment later the hand on her thigh slips out from under her skirt and, eyes still shut, Brittany furrows her brows in consternation at the other girl's cease of movement. She cracks open her eyes and the next thing she knows, Santana is landing a hard punch into her stomach.

"_**Nyuh**_!" Brittany groans as she doubles over in pain as she's wrenched from the first good dream she's had in weeks. "Ow. What the ever-loving fuck?" She whimpers, tears of pain forming in the corners of her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back.

"I'm telling Mom you said the f-word," the shrill voice of one Emily Pierce seems to echo in Brittany's head.

"Go 'way," the older girl mumbles tiredly as she tries to move her sister off of where she landed on her stomach when she flung herself onto the sleeping girl to wake her up. She grunts when Emily's small hands dig into her abdomen when she pushes herself up before sliding off of her sister.

"You're so mean. I don't know why 'Tana puts up with you sometimes," the younger girl grouches.

The sound of the Latina's name causes Brittany's eyes to snap back open as she's reminded that much of last night was decidedly _**not**_ a dream. Noticing the cold, empty space the Latina had occupied when they fell asleep in each other's arms last night, the older girl tries not to look too disappointed – or burst into tears – for the sake of not freaking out her sister.

Emily is not oblivious to the shift in Brittany's demeanor and she instantly softens at the sight of her sister looking so sad. "She's still here. I was just downstairs with her in the kitchen with Mom and Dad," she offers in hopes of making her happy again and is rewarding with a relieved smile making its way back to Brittany's face. "But you better hurry because she said she had to go to her abuela's soon," she adds.

Brittany frowns at the mention of Santana's uncaringly hypercritical abuela and her habit of belittling, demoralizing and ridiculing everything and everyone. She can't help but worry about Santana since she's rarely ever around the malicious old shrew without at least one other person there to act as a buffer since Brittany made it a point to never allow that to happen. The only people in the world that could make Santana feel as bad about herself as her abuela does are her mother, her father and, well, Santana herself.

"See if you can stall her or something. I'll be right down," Brittany tells her sister, her motive just as much to actually have Emily stall Santana as to simply get the girl out of the room.

"Okay," the youngest Pierce nods before darting out of the room to do just that, missing her sister's sigh of relief.

As soon as she'd been told that Santana was still in the house Brittany had been prepared to launch out of her bed and go find her. Luckily for her, she became uncomfortably aware of her sheets against her skin and realized that she was very much naked underneath them. She decided to spare everyone the trauma of her running out of her room naked to catch Santana before she could make it out the door. Brittany's pretty sure that that would be one of the worst possible ways to clue her family in to the fact that she and Santana had sex with each other last night…and probably more than once in the past. It's not so much that she thinks her parents will disapprove, or even care, since she's pretty sure they've noticed how she and Santana have always had a chemistry between them that was more than 'just friends'. Still, it would probably be best to spare Emily the trauma of seeing her big sister running naked through the house after having sex the night before with Santana, the one person Emily looks up to more than her own sister.

So, as soon as the little girl leaves the room, Brittany starts pulling on whatever clothes she trips over first on the floor. With a quick look in the mirror to make sure she doesn't look too ridiculous, she combs her fingers through the tangle of hair on her head to it doesn't look as obvious that she'd gotten some last night. Satisfied that the cowlick in front is smoothed down, the large knot of blonde hair in back is relatively under control and that there are no visible hickies in embarrassing places, Brittany opens her door and tries not to trip over herself as she makes her way downstairs.

"I'm up!" Brittany unsubtly shouts as soon as she reaches the bottom of the stairs and heads to the kitchen. She intended to slow down and casually enter, but forgot to take her sock-clad feet into consideration…so she slides into the kitchen, steadying herself with the doorframe. Her face blushes in a brilliant shade of red from embarrassment.

"Congratulations Sweetheart," Andrew deadpans, his smirk hidden behind his newspaper.

"With an entrance like that, it's a wonder that you made it downstairs in one piece," Anne chuckles.

Brittany, for the most part, ignores her parents as she looks for any sign of the dark-haired head Cheerio before settling her gaze on a sheepish looking Emily.

"She was already gone when I got back down here," the younger blonde regretfully informs her sister. "Sorry Britty," she apologizes, having wanted to have more time to spend with Santana as well considering how the other girl has been MIA for long enough as it is.

"It's not your fault Ems," Brittany sighs, her shoulders sagging as she drags herself to the dining table and drops down into her usual chair. "What'd the Easter Bunny bring you this year?" She asks, smiling for her sister's sake since she doesn't want to ruin the girl's second favorite candy holiday (after Halloween, of course).

At the reminder of her basket of candy, Emily's face lights up and she darts off to the living room to fetch her basket filled with sugary deliciousness. Brittany tries to lose herself in the girl's enthusiasm over the candy and the Easter egg hunt later rather than dwell on how she has _**less**_ of an idea where she and Santana stand now than where they stood less than twelve hours ago. She wonders if it's too early to call the other girl or if she should wait until after Mass…or if she should simply _**not**_ call and wait for the Latina to call her first.

"Are you even listening?" The frustrated ten-year old asks.

"Of course I am," Brittany rolls her eyes playfully, returning her attention to her sister to keep herself distracted.

The two older Pierces watch for a moment before sharing a knowing look and continuing to go about their business. They aren't so blind that they can't tell that there's something going on between their daughter and Santana, but they're confident enough that the two girls will be able to work things out on their own. Both trust that one or both girls would come to them if there was something serious going on that would need to be brought to the attention of a responsible adult…or one of them.

* * *

**12:10pm**

Santana sits quietly at the small kitchen table, her posture rigid with her hands clasped together in her lap and legs crossed daintily at the ankles. Anxiously she watches the much older Latina move efficiently around the small space, not particularly concerned with being quiet as she loudly opens and closes drawers and cabinets. She doesn't want this part to ever end, the part where her abuela manages to find something to keep her distracted in between each round of insults.

Despite having been on her best behavior throughout the criminally boring Catholic Mass, Santana knows, deep down, that the other woman was simply waiting for the opportunity to criticize her. Out of everyone, Adelita Milagros is one of only three people that Santana would never dare step out of line with by talking back or even giving so much as a dirty look. The other two are her actual parents, (Dr.) Santiago and Maribel Lopez. There is no one, authority figure or otherwise, that could be more imposing than any of them…even Coach Sue Sylvester has difficulty being around them, let alone maintaining eye contact without being the first to look away. Principal Figgins is a joke and Will Schuester, if he ever finds himself in such a position, he would likely soil himself. Schuester can't even bring himself to make eye contact with Santana so he would undoubtedly be unable to meet the gaze of the two people that spawned the girl in question in the first place _**let alone**_ the vicious harpy that practically wrote the book on being an evil bitch. At Adelita's age, however, no one calls it 'being a bitch' and it is instead brushed under the blanket term of 'being old'…which is a euphemism used to include all unpleasant personality traits of the elderly without sounding disrespectful.

Adelita's church treats Easter Mass as something of a formal event…even more so than any other Mass. It's always a sea of men in dark suits and ties and women in modest but beautiful, brightly colored dresses. Usually, formal (i.e. Prom) for Santana translates into a gorgeous dress that's a sexy shade of red and falls either at knee length or shorter. If worse comes to worse, she'd always be able to fall back on a black dress to give off that sexy and mysterious vibe. Though she would claim that she prefers sultry red over anything, it would be a lie because, honestly, she prefers black. Not because it makes her sexy and mysterious or because it compliments her dark features, though both are equally accurate, but because it helps her hide in the dark corners and/or blend in to a crowd when needed.

However, since as far as Adelita Milagros is concerned, black dresses are strictly for mourning, Santana couldn't default to black since red is too 'scandalous' of a color for the church. Santana isn't stupid and she knows that wearing red is an invitation for her abuela to loudly and publicly inform her that she looks like a harlot/tramp/slut/whore or any colorful variation of that general theme…in Spanish, English or both.

Still, Santana manages to look unquestionably striking, as per usual, but in a surprisingly innocent way that is pleasantly refreshing in that it almost feels like starting over. A small part of her blames the feeling on the fact that Easter is meant to celebrate Jesus' resurrection, which is a bit of a rebirth in and of itself. Her smooth, flowing dress reaches to just above her ankles. The base color is white but with a tasteful purple and pink floral-leaf pattern that succeeds at being both stylish _**and**_ classy. She manages to look grown up but not inappropriately so. As an added precaution, she even brought a wrap to ensure that her shoulders were covered and she wouldn't be showing too much bare skin on her arms.

It is no secret how much her abuela detests women's shoes that are designed with the sole purpose of making her look taller due to the belief that taller women intimidate men. ("Men are more attracted to petite women because it makes them feel stronger by comparison and they'll subconsciously want to take protect you and take care of you"). As far as Adelita is concerned, women who wear heels, platforms or wedges might as well be lesbians. That being said, Santana was sure to coordinate her dress with a pair of tame, unembellished white open-toed gladiator sandals.

Surely Santana had all of her bases covered in terms of appeasing her abuela's unspoken standards…that always seem to be changing on a whim. It's as though the other woman not only _**expects**_ others to fail, but almost _**wants**_ them to as well. If nothing else, Santana decides that it is at least an explanation as to where her mother got that particular trait from.

"Were you trying to embarrass me today?" The deceptively calm, thickly accented voice breaks the long silence, startling the younger Latina out of her head.

"What? No, of course not," Santana shakes her head vehemently even though the other woman's back is still turned to her.

"Then explain to me why you thought it appropriate to wear those bondage shoes," Adelita demands in the same even tone as she turns to her granddaughter with her eyes narrowed slightly and her lips pressed into a thin frown of disapproval.

"Huh?" Santana's face scrunches into a look of utter confusion as she looks back down at her sandals.

"Don't 'huh' me young lady," the older woman warns as she accusingly points the wooden spoon she's been using to stir the rice at the girl. "All of those strappy things and buckles," she waves the spoon around vaguely as she indicates the offending items.

"This is just a style that's in right now…they aren't 'bondage shoes', Abuela. I didn't even know there was such a thing," Santana shakes her head with a small smile meant to keep her from sounding like she's being insolent.

Adelita scrutinizes the other girl for several agonizing moments. "At this rate, next year you will be attempting to go to Mass wearing whips and chains. Try convincing Father Delgado that it's nothing more than 'a popular style'. I doubt he'd be impressed…even if it was white or pastel instead of black leather or latex or rubber or whatever it is those people use," the older woman sneeringly rants as she furiously stirs the rice.

"'Those people'?" Santana questions, immediately regretting it. She knows what the older woman means when she says 'those people' and the Cheerio can't help but wonder if she's doing this to subconsciously punish herself for sneaking out on Brittany this morning.

"You know, _**those people**_," Adelita stresses with her back to her granddaughter once more before deciding to elaborate without waiting for a response. "The perverts and rapists and prostitutes and…_**homosexuals**_," she emphasizes the last one with even more disgust, if at all possible, than the others.

"Right, yeah…them," Santana nods her head in weak agreement, feeling herself sinking even further into her chair as well as into herself.

Adelita easily picks up on the tone, turning to the girl with a scowl. "I know about that queer boy at your school," she says and Santana tries not to grimace at the obvious mention of Kurt, but the older woman notices anyways. "You are far too sympathetic…_**too nice**_, for your own good," she reproaches with a shake of her head and the other girl refrains from laughing, knowing that there's a school full of people willing to challenge that.

"Lo siento, Abuela," she apologizes instead.

"All people like him want is to stand out and be different never mind the consequences. They _**choose**_ to be deviants and sinners. While all of the sex and drugs that go with _**that**_ lifestyle can be alluring for some, they will spend the rest of eternity paying for their indulgences," Adelita preaches.

"I know that," Santana swallows thickly, knowing it would be pointless to argue that Kurt doesn't engage in any of that 'deviant behavior' that the other woman is suggesting.

"And that friend of yours," the older Latina scoffs disapprovingly as she pulls down two bowls from the cabinet. "She's not much better," she says as she spoons a hefty amount of food into each of the bowls.

"Brittany?" Santana can't help but ask, not sure what the other girl even has to do with anything.

"Right, her," Adelita never bothered to learn the blonde's name hoping it would deter the girl from tagging along whenever her granddaughter came over but it never worked…until recently at least.

"What about her?" The question comes before Santana can censor herself.

"She's so infantile and inappropriately physically affectionate that I would think she had some developmental disorder if I didn't know better. It's because her parents are such…_**hippies**_," the older woman spits the word like a curse as she sets a bowl full of her Puerto Rican rice in front of her granddaughter with a fork. "They allow her to run wild and 'experiment' with her sexuality. They encourage her to enter into a den of sin rather than to avoid it and they are leading her on the path straight to Hell," she shakes her head in dismay.

If at all possible, Santana is even less hungry now than she was before her grandmother started speaking and she simply stares at what used to be her favorite dish before high school and the Cheerios and peer and parental pressure. "The Pierces' are nice," she murmurs, not meaning to say that aloud.

"Nonsense," Adelita brushes off the teen's comment. "I don't trust them and _**you**_ only like them because they are so lenient and permissive," she adds carelessly, taking the seat across from the other girl with her own food.

Santana chooses to stay silent, usually the wisest choice in regards to dealing with the headstrong matriarch. Idly she picks at her food and only takes a couple of bites. She knows it's probably for the best anyways since she hasn't really eaten anything half as filling as this in a while. The flavors alone are almost overwhelming in contrast with her bland and almost nonexistent diet. It's rich orange-red color and aromatic scent is indicative of the use of saffron even before she tastes it. There is the robust taste of sofrito with every bite and plenty of pigeon peas and bell peppers visible in the dish.

"And I see the way that girl looks at you sometimes. Her parents' liberalism have led her to believe that it is acceptable to look at you, _**another girl**_, in such an inappropriate way…" she shakes her head, scandalized, as she continues on with her train of thought, paying no mind to the fact that Santana isn't contributing to the conversation. "Eat your rice Santana. It has chorizo in it," she abruptly states upon noticing that the other girl has barely touched her food.

"It's very good. Thank you," the cheerleader states before taking a big bite, her tone bordering on sounding robotic.

Adelita narrows her eyes at her granddaughter in scrutiny for a moment. "I know that girl is sweet and pretty and charming in much the same way as some dimwitted pet dog…but she is no better than el diablo. Trying to disarm you and make you think it's okay and natural to be 'like her'. She is corrupting you Santana and you would do well to remember that," she says slowly to make sure the other girl is listening.

"Sí," Santana nods offering a weak smile before turning her attention back to her food.

The older woman watches the teen for several moments as she tries to decipher the girl's reactions. "Santana, I am only speaking these things to you because, out of all of my grandchildren, you are my favorite. I know that girl is supposed to be your friend, but you need to be cautious that she may be trying to get you to believe that her own unnatural and sinful way of thinking is normal and there is nothing wrong with it. I worry that she will lead you into that perverted lifestyle and you will condemn your soul to an eternity in Hell because of her," she states, sincere enough in her intentions, no matter how judgmental and narrow-minded they might be.

"I understand, gracias," the head Cheerio acknowledges.

Santana tries to sound appreciative despite feeling as though the person behind her façade will be continuously beaten down and forced to fit into whatever box others see fit to place her in. No matter what she says or does, she can't seem to break free from other people's perceptions of her. From her family to other students and teachers to the Cheerios and even Brittany, everyone has a different set of expectations and perceptions of her and, frankly, Santana can't keep up anymore. Just thinking about having to spend the rest of her life like this is equal parts tiring and terrifying.

Thankfully, after Santana's expression of gratitude, Adelita considers the matter taken care of and closed from further discussion. Santana couldn't be more relieved.

* * *

**Monday – 7:48am**

"Hey," a familiar voice greets Santana softly from the other side of her open locker.

It takes every ounce of Santana's willpower not to jump down David's throat. In the wake of finding out that her beard had spent Spring Break buddying up to Quinn and Brittany while bonding with Emily and Katie, she has yet to shake the feeling of betrayal. She would like to chalk it up to none of them having had an opportunity to tell her for themselves as suggested by Mr. Pierce…but that just doesn't fit.

Had Brittany actually been forming a friendship with David, she wouldn't have been so borderline hostile to him the night of the party nor would she had slept with Santana, the girlfriend of her supposed 'friend'. Quinn is really the only one that can get away with the excuse considering how they haven't even so much as acknowledged one another since Santana's return from Texas with the other Cheerios.

David, however, has had ample opportunity to tell her about it…she even gave him the perfect opening on the way back from the airport. He could've mentioned it when she asked how his Spring Break went and what he did. The more Santana thinks about it the more infuriated she gets. He _**conveniently**_ left out Brittany, Quinn and Emily when he mentioned watching the National Cheer Competition with Katie. It looks more and more like he (as well as Brittany and Quinn) are being deliberately deceitful the longer she ponders it.

Did David tell them about them being each other's beards? Is that why Brittany felt like it would be okay to sleep with her? Would he only out Santana to them or would he out himself too? Why would they want to keep their blossoming friendship a secret from her in the first place? If Britt and Quinn were as serious about rebuilding their friendship as they said, why wouldn't they want her to know they were making the effort with David? Are the three of them hiding anything else from her? Are they plotting something against her? What-

"Are you okay? You look a little out of it right now," David's tone is soft and genuinely concerned as he places a hand gently on her shoulder to draw her attention back to him. Unfortunately for him, it works.

Santana's thought-clouded gaze instantly clears as she hones in on the football player, eyes narrowed in hostility as she brushes his large hand off her shoulder. "When were you going to tell me that you, Brittany and Quinn were, like, _**total**_ girlfriends now?" She asks, her quiet tone starting in a rage-filled growl and ending in a maliciously condescending tone.

David's eyes widen almost comically and his mouth drops open ever so slightly, clearly never having expected her to find out. "What?" He eventually asks through the lump that seems to have formed in his throat.

"You heard me," she hisses back, obviously not in the mood to play games.

"Brittany told you," David sighs, running a nervous hand through his short hair and avoiding looking at the other girl.

Surprisingly enough, Santana laughs at this…but it sounds far from amused. "Funny thing is, Brittany didn't say a word. I had to find out from Emily yesterday morning," she informs him through gritted teeth. "And judging by your reaction, it's true, isn't it?" She questions with a dark look that almost seems to be daring him to lie to her.

"Yes," David admits, swallowing thickly through his nerves. He feels guilty for lying about it partly because he got caught but also because he doesn't like keeping things from Santana. She's the one person that he's been able to trust completely with all of his deepest secrets thus far and she has more than proven herself to be a consistently trustworthy confidant. His guilt stems from the fact that he kept something from her that she had every right to know.

Santana narrows her eyes suspiciously at him for caving so easily. "Is there a reason why you felt the need to keep this under wraps?" She finds herself asking, wanting so badly for this to be some big misunderstanding and that she's blowing the scope of things out of proportion.

"I didn't want you to get mad at me for talking to them and worry that I'd out you to them," he says quietly after a moment, not really having any better excuse since he really doesn't know entirely why else he thought it necessary.

"So you were concerned that I would make you choose between being friends with them and being friends with me and you thought I would be so insecure about you spilling all of my secrets that you decided to turn your friendship with them into a secret of your own?" She attempts to grasp the motives he is suggesting.

"Um…" David trails off sheepishly, knowing that it sounds a little dumb when put like that.

"You _**do**_ realize that if you were to out me I would return the favor and, unlike you, I actually have evidence to support any claims to heterosexuality I might make. Anyone that might point out that I've made out with girls at parties and/or slept with Brittany can easily be explained away by me stating I was drunk and experimenting," Santana shrugs before her gaze turns dangerous again. "You, on the other hand, had one girlfriend before me that you only got to first base with and I'm sure that allegations of your faggotry would make a lot of the guys on the team think back to those times they caught you leering in the showers or the locker room," she adds in a low, threatening growl.

"Look, I'm sorry. I made a stupid decision by not telling you," he apologizes, not wanting the other girl to be angry with him anymore.

"How did this ridiculous friendship even get started in the first place?" Santana asks derisively.

The jock cringes, knowing that the brunette isn't going to like his answer and that he's going to be going back on his word when he promised Brittany he wouldn't tell Santana. "I wanted to learn how to dance so I could dance with you at the Prom…so I asked Brittany to teach me," he confesses anxiously, clenching his eyes shut as he braces himself for the inevitable explosion…that never comes.

Cracking open an eye, he see Santana glaring at him with her arms folded over her chest, an eyebrow quirked up impatiently and her left foot tapping on the floor in agitation. It is painfully clear that she is barely able to contain her anger and she is waiting for him to continue.

"It was just after the glee club did that _Born This Way_ song and…" David trails off when her eyes narrow and her jaw tenses. He swallows thickly. "We talked a little when she was teaching me and we got along. We talked about you some, but I swear I never told her anything that I thought would have any chance of pissing you off," he is quick to inform her, being completely honest.

Santana eyes him up and down for a moment, scrutinizing his every twitch and flinch under her harsh gaze. "You are unbelievable," she says with distain, giving him a brief final once over before turning on her heel and stalking off.

* * *

**3:42 pm **

Santana rubs her tired eyes as she focuses on the numbers blurring on the page in front of her as she waits in the library. She has no idea what Coach was thinking when she decided that it was a good idea to have her and some of the other Cheerios tutor. Even more inexplicable is the fact that two tables over _**Cody**_, of all people, is tutoring someone. English Lit from what the Latina can tell.

Checking the time on her phone, she breathes out a sigh and stifles a yawn. Having spent the entire day avoiding David, Brittany and Quinn really feels like it took a lot out of her. With Cheer Nationals over, it's a mountain of stress off her shoulders for another year. These last three or four days have left her feeling especially drained. However, Santana is willing to concede that, for the most part, the actual cheer competition is only responsible for a fraction of her current anxiety.

The Latina has never regretted sleeping with someone – _**especially**_ Brittany – as much as she does now. Even if she did hold out some hope for reconciliation between her and Brittany at some unspecified point in the future, she knows that what happened Saturday night was a mistake. It was far too soon for them to be together like that again considering they still had yet to really talk about anything that has been festering between them since, _**at least**_, the summer before their freshman year.

Now, in light of the secret friendship that's been developing between her beard/friend, one of her former friends and her former 'more-than-just-a-friend' friend, she feels worse about Saturday night that she did when she woke up Sunday morning. Santana didn't even think it was _**possible**_ to feel worse about it…until she did.

On top of everything else, she now has Sue Sylvester trying to wedge herself into her life. She doesn't need an adult hovering over her shoulder. For the most part, she thinks she's done pretty well without one for the majority of the last 17 years. The fact that she now has to do this tutoring thing with some of the other Cheerios feels like it's somehow Sue's way of overcompensating for…something that probably only exists in the deranged woman's head anyways.

Leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms out behind her, she can't help but wonder where the hell the kid she's supposed to be tutoring is at. Then, as if somehow conjured up by her very thoughts, a body drops down in the seat next to the Latina, startling her. Santana turns to see a red-faced and sheepish blonde smiling weakly at her.

"Hi," Brittany sheepishly greets the darker girl, who only stares silently back. "Sorry I'm late…I, um…" she trails off, glancing around before dropping her voice, "I wasn't sure if you even wanted to see me," she murmurs in a heartbreakingly self-conscious tone.

Santana looks around and tries to make sense of the other girl's unanticipated presence. It just feels like a wasted effort having spent the entire day avoiding the blonde only to be ambushed with her now. She had nothing to prepare her to be confronted with the blonde well before she was ready to…especially so soon _**after**_.

Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, Santana looks over at the other girl, careful to avoid eye contact, her gaze settled somewhere in the vicinity of the blonde's left eyebrow. "I was meeting my abuela before Mass. It was early and I didn't want to wake you," she mutters. Though it's all true, it's not the _**whole**_ truth so the Latina can't help but feel the sting of guilt as if she was lying outright.

Brittany studies the darker girl's face, her eyes raking over her painfully familiar features before trying – and failing – to make eye contact. "You could have called or sent a text…or answered any of mine," she pointedly mentions before sighing in disappointment at the other girl's continued silence. "What are we doing Santana?" She questions the other girl in exasperation as she attempts to keep her rapidly fluctuating emotions reigned in.

The Latina shakes her head. "I…I don't…" she trails off as her words get caught in her throat, nervously glancing around to make sure no one is eavesdropping.

"We're friends one day and you ignore me the next. You tell me you love me and then you treat me like every other asshole in this school that you can't stand," the blonde wipes her eyes and looks down at the scratched wood table as she tries to re-center her thoughts. "We spend weeks dancing around each other and then Saturday we finally did something about it and…" she breaks off with a tremulous breath, running her fingers through her hair with a shaky hand to buy herself a moment until she trusts her voice again, "…and then you disappear in the middle of the night like I'm just another one of your goddamn one-night stands," she hisses, just as hurt as she is angry.

"Britt…" Santana breathes out, "…please don't do this right now," she whispers pleadingly, knowing this is neither the time nor the place to be having this conversation.

"Do you have any idea how shitty that made me feel?" Brittany continues as though the other girl hadn't spoken.

"I'm sorry…it's not like it felt any better on my end either," she confesses under her breath, leaning back in her chair with her body facing the blonde, but looking down at her lap.

Brittany slides her chair closer to her counterpart and leans forward so she can try and catch the Latina's downcast eyes as she reaches over to take the other girl's hands in her own. "Don't you get it Santana? All I want – all I've _**ever**_ wanted – is you. All I want is to be with _**you**_…and have you be just as proud to be with me as I am to be with you," she confesses openly.

Santana finally meets the taller girl's eyes. "Of course I'd be proud to be with you Britt. Why wouldn't I be?" She breathes out honestly.

"You tell me," Brittany replies with a mild shrug. "I want everyone to know that we're together and that you're _**mine**_. I don't want to hide us anymore," she tells the smaller girl up front.

The Latina takes in a shuddering breath. "I…I'm…not going to do this right now. I can't do this," Santana shakes her head, the last part sounding like she's referring to a lot more than just having this particular conversation. A look of terror flits across her features as she further dwells on the taller girl's implications of being openly together before she tries to pull her hands out of the blonde's without drawing any more attention to them.

Brittany's grip holds strong, tightening around the hands in her own and a dark cloud passes through her eyes. "You fucking David Karofsky _**isn't**_ going to make you straight Santana," she says in a tone that is paradoxically both sympathetic and reproachful, feeling bad for the brunette as she tries to get her to understand.

Narrowing her eyes, Santana wrenches her hands away. "You don't know the first thing about our relationship. Don't think that just because you guys are, like, total girlfriends now that he tells you everything about us," she sneers low enough so that only Brittany can hear her, her tone increasingly condescending as she continues.

"It wouldn't matter what he tells me and what he doesn't because I know the truth," Brittany retorts, pausing briefly in mild confusion at the fear momentarily passing through the brunette's eyes. "I know that you're a fraud and that he cares about you in spite of whatever hurtful things you say to him. He can read you well enough by now to know that the more cruel and hurtful your words are to others, the more you'd rather direct them towards yourself," she pushes.

Santana stares at the blonde, jaw clenched as she barely keeps herself from letting loose a barrage of expletives that would only serve to prove to the other girl that she struck a nerve with her words. "This conversation is over. Whatever we had is over now and you need to stop stalking me. It was all a mistake…I was just confused and I'm…I'm fine now," her words sound robotic and hollow, even to her own ears, as she refuses to make eye contact and instead chooses to stare off at some point above Brittany's head.

"You're lying. You _**aren't**_ fine and you _**aren't**_ confused, not about this…not about _**us**_. And I'm _**not**_ stalking you, Coach Sue is the one that suggested tutoring and I thought she told you…" Brittany sighs at the sharp look Santana shoots her as she realizes that Sue never told the darker girl that she would be tutoring _**her**_ specifically. "I also know, better than I've ever known anything else, that being with you has _**never**_ been a mistake. My biggest mistake was not fighting hard enough to keep you in the first place," she confesses softly.

The brunette shakes her head in denial before closing her eyes and swallowing thickly as she struggles with her next words. "You would never have been able to 'keep' me since I was never even yours to begin with," she argues quietly. "What you're suggesting is not simply unacceptable, it's also inappropriate and wrong," she further attempts to dispel any 'delusions' about where they stand that the other girl might hold before she can get swept up in her emotions again.

Brittany narrows her eyes into a scowl since it's all she can really do to keep from crying. "I knew that you going to your abuela's by yourself was a bad idea," she growls, mostly to herself for letting it happen in the first place.

Santana narrows her eyes but ignores her. "You need to accept that I'm not like _**you**_ and I don't like you like _**that**_," she sneers bitterly.

"No, you don't," Brittany agrees, much to Santana's surprise. "You _**love**_ me and that's why this," she corrects as she motions between the two of them, "hurts so much," she finishes sadly.

The other girl stares intensely at her for a long moment before shaking her head to clear her mind. "No," is all she says, enunciating the single word firmly before grabbing her backpack, standing up and walking away without looking back. She never gave any indication to what it was she was saying 'no' to, but that might be because she didn't know either.

Brittany deflates as she watches the girl she loves walk away…yet again. This is the first time since they started getting 'closer' and Santana firmly wedged herself into the self-denial closet that Brittany actually has doubts that Santana will come around. She wants nothing more than to run after the Latina and kiss her until is no longer able to deny how beautiful and sincere what they have together really is. The only reason why she doesn't is because she knows Santana well enough to understand that the other girl needs some time to herself for now so she can process everything. Kissing Santana in the middle of the hall, even with very few people left in the school, would probably not be the best idea if she wanted to win over the girl afraid to even hold her hand or hug her in public.

With a defeated sigh, Brittany stands up and makes her way to the library exit as she pulls out her phone. Scrolling through her contact list, she pauses on David K. with a wave of guilt passing over her. She knows he's a nice guy and that very fact makes her feel so much worse about herself because she knows that she's pretty much actively trying to steal his girlfriend that he cares very much about. It makes her feel like such an incredible bitch for doing this to someone she considers her friend.

As much as she likes David and trusts him, she knows this isn't exactly something she can talk to him about. If this had been about any girl other than Santana, then she wouldn't think twice about calling him. Despite his reputation and treatment towards Kurt throughout high school and most of their childhood, she has a feeling that he wouldn't judge her or look down on her for having feelings like this towards another girl. She doesn't even want to think about how he could potentially react if he ever found out that she and Santana slept together Saturday night.

Scrolling down further, Brittany pauses on another name. Outside of Brittany and Santana themselves, Quinn is the most knowledgeable person there is in regards to everything going on between them…and Brittany really needs to vent about this. Preferably to someone that already has some kind of an idea as to what's going on. Luckily for Brittany, Quinn answers her phone before the second ring.

* * *

**Santana's House – 4:25pm**

Suffice it to say, Santana is beyond furious at this point. She is trying to understand how it is even possible for _**so**_ much to go _**so**_ wrong in _**so**_ little time. Stomping up the stairs to go to her room, she struggles to wrap her mind around the fact that, after winning the Cheer Nationals on Friday, it only took two days to completely unravel everything that she thought was holding her together. No one could see any of it, obviously, but there were certain things and certain people that she always thought she could count on no matter the circumstances…and she didn't know how much she depended on those things remaining constant in her life until they were no longer there the way she wanted them to be.

How is it that it only took two days – yesterday and today – for her to find out that everyone she thought she could trust and count on was betraying her in some way or another? As much as she didn't want to include Brad amongst the others, she feels as though she does not have any choice at this point since it feels like trusting others is no longer an option for her anymore. She hurls her Cheerio duffel bag in anger and frustration at the legs of her desk, almost even more enraged when nothing falls off or breaks.

Santana should have known that Sue was up to no good when she mentioned that tutoring scheme of hers. The rationalization behind it sounded weak, especially for Sue. Actually, she should have suspected that her coach had something up her sleeve when she confronted Santana in her office the week before Nationals. What the hell was Coach Sylvester even thinking when she tried to force Brittany and Santana to work together in tutoring like that? Sue was well aware that their relationship was more than a little strained and it was a little too convenient that she just so happened to come up with the idea of tutoring when Brittany was having some issues in AP Calc…as taught by one Sue Sylvester. No way that could be chalked up to being a mere coincidence. Was it some attempted scheme to try and talk Brittany into rejoining the Cheerios? Of course, if that's what it was then why didn't Sue speak to her about it…and why did she tell Brittany instead? It doesn't sit right with Santana in the least…even more so given the fact that Sue had even went and spoke to David without her knowing…

Until Sunday morning, Santana had been so sure that David was someone that she could depend on and confide in without fear of anything being repeated outside of just the two of them. Hell, she was almost positive that he had no secrets from her anymore since she believes she knows almost as much about him and his life as she does about a particular blonde and _**her**_ life. Except that the two of them are apparently good friends now and made it a point to conceal that very fact from her. Even worse is that they brought their siblings into it…as well as Quinn.

Given the fractured state their friendship had been in since the beginning of sophomore year, their friendship was pretty much shattered by Quinn selling her out to knock Santana back to the bottom of the pyramid just to usurp the title of Head Cheerio. While Santana clearly didn't help matters by ditching New Directions in favor of the Cheerios, this more recent betrayal of the other blonde is the final nail in the coffin of what used to be their friendship. It told Santana that Quinn has absolutely no interest in being friends with her ever again or she would have at least tried to make an effort to start rebuilding things between them. No, Quinn just befriended _**Santana's**_ boyfriend along with Brittany behind the darker girl's back with no intention of ever letting her know. Santana thinks that it might have been Quinn's way of trying to get back at Santana for Puck…and Sam…and Finn (kind of).

How did it never occur to them that, maybe, Santana wouldn't have been against the idea of all four of them being friends? Had it not been for the others going behind her back and hiding everything from her then she would have been thrilled that the two blondes got along so well with David. The possibility that David could have been the catalyst to reunite the Unholy Trinity makes it hurt even worse that no one even bothered to try. Santana knows that it must be because they didn't actually want to rebuild their friendship with her in the first place which is why they went through such trouble to exclude her. It was only through fear of retaliation that they hid their friendship the way they did. She wonders how much longer David would've waited before breaking off their fake relationship so he could stop lying about becoming friends with the two blondes.

And then there's Brittany…

Santana drops down to sit heavily on her bed as she thinks about her favorite blonde. Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms to force down the tears, the Latina can't help but feel the already significant knot in her chest and stomach twisting even further, making it harder to breath past the pain pressure in her chest. Her stomach makes her feel weak and seems to be the cause of the lump in her throat obstructing her breathing. It isn't until she's doubled over with her arms wrapped around her stomach and her forehead on her knees with her feet still on the floor that she realizes that her eyes are clenched shut with tears forcibly squeezing their way out and that her breaths are coming out in short, hard, sporadic sobs that may or may not be a manifestation of a panic attack.

In light of everything, it's hard not to question the blonde's motives these last few weeks, if not the entire school year. Brittany willingly betrayed two people on Saturday night when she and Santana slept together. She betrayed David, who was supposed to be her friend, by sleeping with his girlfriend as well as Santana by hiding her friendship with David from the Latina. It was like every conversation they had about cheating while Brittany was with Artie never happened. Santana knows she's far from innocent in all of this, but she at least knows that David knows that their relationship is entirely fake whereas Brittany feels like, at the very least, David has genuinely romantic feelings for the head Cheerio. All she could think about sitting in the library with Brittany were her abuela's words repeating in her head. Given what she learned from Brittany's sister about the dancer's newfound friendship with David the morning after having drunken sex the night before as well as what she learned from David this morning regarding said friendship, she can't help but feel like Brittany's been trying to manipulate her.

Santana shakes her head, feeling so stupid for buying into Brittany's supposedly 'observational' praise about how awesome she thinks Santana is and anything regarding feelings. If Brittany cared about Santana's feelings at all, then she wouldn't have tried to push her so much to be openly together before they were even officially together in the first place. Had Brittany actually cared about her feelings then she would have wanted them to have been a legitimate couple and been more patient about waiting for Santana to be ready to tell people about it. Why didn't she see any of it before? Why did it take her abuela pointing out how manipulative Brittany was being before she was able to see it for herself? She was the Queen of Manipulation so she should have realized that Brittany was manipulating her. That thought alone had been enough to convince her that, maybe, her abuela was right about everything else as well and that there is nothing natural about her relationship with Brittany.

Right now Santana doesn't know if she wants to scream or cry. All she _**does**_ know is that she doesn't want to think anymore. So she gets up and heads to the liquor cabinet downstairs to accomplish that goal.

* * *

**Tuesday – Lunch**

Blue eyes continue to shift between the two entrances to the cafeteria and the cell phone being held in a vice-grip by long, pale fingers. The darting eyes have something of a wild, manic quality to them…like those of a person that hasn't slept in two days and is in a state of overcompensating alertness that borders on paranoia.

"What's going on Brittany? Are you okay?" Quinn leans in to discretely ask her friend so as not to be overheard by the rest of the glee kids at their table.

The blonde in question turns to meet the concerned gaze of the other former Cheerio. She briefly considers lying and using the stock reply of 'Yeah, I'm fine' but opts against it since, if anyone could understand, it's Quinn.

"No, I'm worried about Santana," Brittany quietly answers, briefly breaking eye contact and biting down on her bottom lip in thought. "We got into an argument in the library when we were supposed to meet for tutoring and…it was bad Quinn, really bad," she vaguely explains why she thinks she has reason to worry.

Quinn considers her friend for a long moment, trying to determine the actual severity of the situation in relation to her friend's perceived urgency. "Has she been ignoring you or avoiding you or something?" She questions, needing a little more information before she can make any kind of judgment on a course of action. At least she can pride herself on the fact that she didn't add 'like you spent the last two days doing to me' at the end of her question, the wrecked state the other blonde is already in acting as enough of a deterrent to further distress the dancer.

"I haven't seen her in school today at all. Her car isn't in the parking lot, she hasn't been to her locker or even any of our classes," Brittany says, wondering how it is that Quinn didn't notice that Santana wasn't in their second period class as her eyes idly drift over towards the Cheerio/jock table where there is a single conspicuously vacant seat.

The shorter blonde follows her gaze. "Have you tried asking David if he's-"

"He hasn't heard from her since yesterday morning before school," Brittany sighs before looking back at her friend and dropping her voice again when she notices that a couple of the others at their table keep turning their attention to the two blondes. "She apparently confronted him about Emily telling her on Sunday morning that David, you and me are friends…and that he and Katie were even at my house over Spring Break," she admits.

This certainly gets Quinn's attention…for several reasons. "I'm guessing she wasn't happy," she decides to continue on their current topic before addressing the other issue hinted at.

"He doesn't even know if they're even still together and he told me that she hasn't been answering any of his calls or texts. She hasn't been answering any mine either," Brittany adds this list part as she glances down at her phone to make sure she didn't miss a text from the Latina.

Quinn is definitely getting a sense of why Brittany is so concerned, but there's still something she needs to know that she hasn't had a chance to ask the other blonde about until now. "If Emily spoke to Santana on Sunday morning…what happened Saturday night?" She inquires, having had an idea before, her suspicions are all but confirmed by the shade of red Brittany's face turns.

"We…um…made love," the taller blonde smiles in spite of her blush, her expression falling as the reality of her current situation settles in once again a moment later. "And we exchanged 'I love you's, she went first," she adds, sounding far less happy that she would have otherwise been.

"Then she finds out that you and I are secretly friends with her boyfriend, that she just cheated on…with you…just like every other boyfriend she's ever had," Quinn sighs as she adds on the next part of the summary, piecing together the timeline leading up to now.

Only now does the 'David' aspect of this situation really sink in for Brittany. She hadn't even realized that, in her head, she had separated 'David, her friend' from 'David, Santana's boyfriend'. Brittany knows that David cares a lot about Santana, the way he keeps surreptitiously glancing sadly over at the empty seat next to him proves as much. It sinks in for the first time that she slept with her friend's girlfriend. Never before did she feels as bad for sleeping with Santana behind the other girl's boyfriend's back as she does now. Maybe it's because she was never actually friends with any of Santana's previous boyfriends. Not even Puck…_**Especially**_ not even Puck.

"After leaving on Sunday she went to Mass with her abuela and probably spent most of the day with her…alone. Her parents were too busy with work to come back for Easter," Brittany dully supplies.

Quinn has never met Adelita Milagros personally, but she's heard more than her fair share of horror stories about the older Latina…from Brittany more so than Santana. "Then you get into an argument in the library-"

"Where I tried to push her to stop fighting against what she and I can feel between us and I ended up pushing her even further away instead when she turned around and said everything about us was a mistake and unnatural and…" Brittany takes a deep breath and shakes her head, trying not to cry.

Suddenly Quinn gets why Brittany is so worried. Personally, she thinks Santana decided to take the day to hide from everyone so she could wallow in anger and self-pity, listening to Alanis Morissette's bitter, angry girl-rock and ignoring the world. However, she can understand where Brittany is coming from and even, to some extent, David as well.

"Look Britt, would you feel better if I went over to Santana's house after school and talked to her?" She offers gently.

"I'll come with you and we can-"

The shorter blonde shakes her head to cut her friend off. "I don't think she's going to be willing to listen to someone she's dating and/or sleeping with right now and, to be totally honest, you kind of look like hell right now," she offers with a gentle, sympathetic smile to take some of the sting out of her words.

"Gee, thanks Q," the other blonde huffs.

"I didn't mean it like that," Quinn rolls her eyes. "You just look like you need some sleep since you're so tense and jittery right now. So go home and go to bed while I talk some sense into Santana," she instructs her friend, resting a calming hand on the other girl's shoulder.

"Only if you promise to call me as soon as you're done and tell me how it went…no matter how late it is," Brittany stipulates.

"Of course," Quinn easily agrees, offering a comforting smile in reassurance.

* * *

**3:49 pm**

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

"Come on Santana! I know you're here!" Quinn barks from outside of the Latina's house. "You can't ignore me forever," she growls, mostly to herself as she begins to search for the spare key used for those nights that Santana has overdone it at some party or another. After checking under the welcome mat and the two potted plants by the door, the frustrated blonde begins to kick at some of the larger rocks lining the flower garden in hopes of one of them being a plastic hide-a-key rock. Then, rolling her eyes at herself for skipping one of the more obvious places, she goes back to the front door and reaches up to brush her fingertips along the top of the doorframe. The side of her index finger nudges something only to be followed by the sound of metal hitting concrete letting her know she got it. Picking up the fallen key, she unlocks the front door with a mildly victorious smirk…but it's short-lived.

Upon entering the unusually dark, eerily silent house, Quinn's left eyebrow arches up as an immediate reflex. The stillness of the atmosphere is such that she begins to even doubt whether or not the Latina is actually there to begin with and she wonders if maybe she should've tried Karofsky's first just in case. It's so quiet that her shoes on the marble flooring echo loud enough to make her cringe and she's almost afraid to take another step and risk disturbing the quiet again. Shaking her head, she decides to just quickly check out the upstairs before worrying about finding an alternative course of action to deal with the darker girl if she isn't there.

No lights on in the main bathroom upstairs isn't too big of a deal considering Santana has her own bathroom in her room. Even _**Quinn**_ doesn't have her own bathroom but she can't bring herself to be too jealous because her parents are at least there…for better or for worse. The Latina's parents, on the other hand, well…given their perpetual absence, Quinn doubts that they'd be able to pick their own daughter out of a lineup.

Over the last three years, since becoming 'friends' with the Latina, Quinn has only been in Santana's room about two or three times…tops. Actually, she's only really been over to the darker girl's house a handful of times altogether…most of the time they were in the kitchen, dining room or den. That being said, Quinn is pretty sure she's never actually _**met**_ Santana's parents in the three years she's known the Latina.

Given her unfamiliarity with the house's layout, Quinn has only the vaguest idea as to what door goes to what room on the second floor and she kind of wishes she had brought Brittany with her anyway if for no other reason than to help her navigate the residence. She's about 90% certain that Santana's room is somewhere on the left.

"Santana?" The blonde softly calls out, almost afraid to be too loud, as she taps on a random door. She is, unsurprisingly met with silence. Testing the doorknob, she cracks the door open and is met with an empty spare bedroom.

Huffing out a sigh, Quinn closes the door and runs her fingers through her hair before moving on. After opening two more doors without luck, she's about ready to give up by the time she reaches the last door on her right. This time, not even bothering to knock at this point, she cracks open the door and is met with more silence and darkness…but at least it's a familiar one this time.

The blonde feels around for a light switch as her eyes slowly start to adjust, the only light in the room is from a couple of small gaps between the heavy, dark curtains where they haven't quite been pulled together completely and from the open bedroom door. She pauses in her blind groping of the wall as she notices a figure lying on the bed the wrong way, with her legs hanging off one side and her head hanging off the other, start to become increasingly more defined the more her eyes adjust.

"Santana?" Quinn whispers though she has no idea why considering she's been trying to wake the girl up since she walked into the house anyways. "Santana," she tries again, louder this time, as her hand abandons its search for a light switch and she moves towards the girl, shaking the back of the girl's nearest leg.

The Latina doesn't flinch or so much as groan. Quinn's heart rate spikes and her breaths come a little quicker as she climbs onto the bed on her knees and leans over to start shaking the back of Santana's right shoulder a lot rougher than she shook her leg moments ago. Nothing.

"Santana!" The blonde cries out, panicking at this point as she pushes her estranged friend onto her back, prying the alarmingly empty bottle of Captain Morgan's out of her hand and jumping off the bed to quickly flip on the light switch she'd been looking for.

Blinking hard at the sudden light, Quinn quickly hones in on the empty orange bottle on Santana's nightstand. The blonde's heart firmly lodges itself in her throat when, upon getting closer, she notices the name on the bottle reads 'Maribel'. She doesn't need to bother looking at what it is since Santana and Brittany have 'joked' enough about the other woman eating Xanax like they're Skittles in the past. Quinn didn't even realize that she'd pulled out her phone and dialed 911 until she's numbly rattling off the address to the operator and hanging up once assured that an ambulance is on its way.

Seeing the Cheerio captain still in her uniform from yesterday, unconscious, unresponsive and draped over the bed the wrong way with her head hanging off the other side doesn't feel real. Slowly climbing back on the bed and kneeling down beside the Latina, Quinn reaches out a trembling hand towards the thin wrist closest to her to check for a pulse.

Quinn has never been more afraid of anything in her entire life, not even when she found out she was pregnant last year or when her parents kicked her out. Fear of rejection or humiliation in no way compares to the fear that someone you know and care about might be dead and lying right here in front of you. Clenching her eyes tightly shut, the blonde presses two fingers to the inside of Santana's wrist and waits with bated breath to feel something…anything. The seconds that tick by feel like hours with Quinn silently praying, tears escaping. Her breath hitches and her eyes shoot open when she becomes aware of the faintest fluttering of a pulse under her fingers. Dropping her head to the Latina's chest, Quinn breathes a sigh of relief upon hearing the weak rhythmic beat of a heart.

Sitting back up, Quinn's relief quickly turns to resentment towards the other girl for doing this in the first place. "What the hell were you thinking?" She questions rhetorically as she roughly tugs on Santana's upper body until her head is resting in her lap rather than hanging off the bed.

The blonde starts slightly when Santana groans as she turns away from the light and buries her face in the former Cheerio's stomach. With a sigh, Quinn relents and begins to run her fingers through dark hair as she waits for the ambulance to arrive.

* * *

I felt like the end notes I had on here would lessen the impact of the end of the chapter since it includes a lot of explanation – about the way the chapter ended, Santana's abuela and the chapter in general. So I instead put the notes on my Profile page. While I encourage you to read the notes at your leisure, I won't push it since it isn't vital to the story…just, perhaps, helpful in case you might have questions.  
One question not answered in those notes is one that I'm sure many of you might be asking: Did Santana do it on purpose? My response is not one that you will be pleased to hear: I am not going to tell you. Santana is the only person that can answer that and she is going to tell people what they want to hear, but whether or not that is actually the truth is meant to be deliberately ambiguous. Maybe she did do it on purpose or maybe it was an accident. Much like the other characters in this story, you can draw your own conclusions.

The next chapter I will only describe by using keywords and people (aside from Santana, obviously). Once again, I'll let you draw your own conclusions based on them…they may not be in chronological order of when they'll appear in the chapter itself.  
Hospital, mild violence, Sue, David, Brittany, Quinn, New Directions, Azimio. Also, remember how Brittany said David would owe her a favor in exchange for dance lessons?


	18. React

**A/N**: Thanks to those of you still sticking with this story. Your support is greatly appreciated.

**A/N2**: I meant to have this done last week but that clearly didn't happen so I'm sorry. I actually just barely finished it before posting so I haven't really revised as much as I would have liked. Let me know if anything needs to be fixed and I'll take care of it.

**Spoilers**: Up through _Funeral_…though, with Season 4 about to start is it even a spoiler anymore if it's from Season 2?

**WARNINGS**: Language, mild violence, possibly intense imagery…but nothing graphic.

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: React**

"It's okay. We can fix this. It'll be okay. _**You'll**_ be okay. Okay?" Quinn Fabray softly chants in her trademark soothing, melodic voice. It's easy to miss the barest trace of the underlying fear and panic in her tone. This was not how she expected her Tuesday evening to go. Not by a long-shot. She never could have imagined that she'd ever find herself riding in the back of an ambulance, clinging to Santana Lopez's limp hand and praying that the girl doesn't die of alcohol poisoning and/or a drug overdose.

Even through her substance-addled haze Santana knows she's thoroughly fucked. Feeling the clammy hands of the _**wrong**_ blonde painfully gripping one of her own is sufficient in cutting through her delirium just barely enough to alert her as to her current situation. She can feel the laughter bubbling up in her throat because she's strapped to a gurney in an ambulance en route to the hospital with fucking _**Quinn Fabray**_, of all people, clutching her hand and attempting to comfort her.

For her part, Quinn is in a state of near shock and nothing going on around her feels real. She can't help but watch with wide eyes as an EMT pushes a thin tube down through one of Santana's nostrils. That results in the first real reaction Quinn has seen from the Latina since school yesterday. Once the tube reached a certain point and the brunette began making choking and wheezing sounds with her hands weakly reaching up to try and stop the paramedics from doing their jobs.

Quinn, for a moment, thought it was all over, but she couldn't have been more wrong. A thicker tube was pushed down Santana's throat, the girl's body straining and seeming to spasm in protest to the paramedics holding her down. The blonde feels the grip on her hand tighten as they pump some kind of clear fluid down the tube and into Santana's stomach. She finally turns away when they roll the brunette's small body onto her side as she retches into a container or some kind.

All the while, Quinn is only vaguely aware of them asking her questions throughout the ordeal. She answers to the best of her distracted ability. The questions and her lack of answers only further driving home the fact that she doesn't know the other girl near as well as she thought she did not even four months ago. Quinn thinks, for the umpteenth time today that she wishes Brittany was here either _**with**_ her or _**instead**_ _**of**_ her. Brittany would know how to answer these questions and Brittany would know what to do.

All Quinn can think to do is close her eyes and pray while she continues hold Santana's limp, clammy hand.

* * *

**4:55pm**

Quinn is sitting in the ER waiting room and staring despondently at the two phones tightly clenched in her hands. The weight of how alone Santana must feel _**all the time**_ is finally hitting her squarely in chest as she struggles to think of who she should be calling to alert them of the Latina's condition and/or whereabouts. As popular as Santana supposedly is, her list of contacts is surprisingly small. Abuela, B, D, Dad – Hospital, Mom – Work, Q and Sue.

For anyone else, she would call their parents but it's already been established that she has never even met Santana's family. She's always taken for granted the way Brittany and the rest of the Pierces would 'joke' about Santana being an official member of their family. Never once did she question that maybe it wasn't a joke after all. From what she gathered from Brittany, since Santana never talks about her family, is that Santana's grandmother will not be the best person to have at Santana's side right now.

Logically, the next best option after excluding family would be close friends. However, since Santana's personality can only politely be referred to as a little on the abrasive side, she doesn't really have any _**true**_ friends. Brittany's name briefly flits through her mind, but that doesn't even seem to be the case anymore. That thought saddens Quinn more than she would like to think because, well before she even came into the picture, Brittany and Santana have always been close. She's always been able to count on them and how consistent and reliable their relationship was. No matter what drama was going on around them, Quinn could always count on those two to roll their eyes, link pinkies and walk away with some offhanded snarky comment. Now, it's like Santana can barely stand to even be around Brittany…at least when she's sober, she didn't seem to have a problem Saturday.

Quinn's other options are practically nil. According to what David said to Brittany, his relationship with Santana is on the verge of collapse. The Cheerios are contacts in Santana's phone only in case she, as Cheerio Captain, need to update them about practices or events, so they don't count. As terrifying as it sounds, Sue Sylvester is Santana's cheerleading coach as well as one of the only responsible (and that's using the term loosely) adults in the brunette's life. However, she knows that Sue would only make the situation more difficult and would probably come down incredibly hard on the Latina over this. Briefly, she toys with the idea of calling Mr. Schuester since he gave them his number (which Santana conveniently removed) in case they needed an adult to help them without being judgmental.

The blonde's finger hovers over 'send' right under Mr. Schuester's name on her phone as she debates calling him. Personally, she's too afraid to call Brittany and get her, presumably, hysterical reaction and 'I told you so' over expressing her concerns at lunch.

All of Quinn's contemplations are cut short when the doors fly open and three very familiar blondes rush in and Quinn's eyebrows shoot up in confusion at their sudden appearance. She checks her phone to make sure she didn't dial them and talk to them without remembering. A lot of things seem to be a bit hazy to her today anyways.

"Brittany?" Quinn can't help but blurt out as she stands up and approaches the trio cautiously.

At the sound of her name, Brittany whips her head around to find the source. She immediately spots her friend, taking in how pale and shaken she is and the two cell phones she's holding, one of them easily recognizable as Santana's.

"What's going on?" Brittany asks bluntly. Despite the taller blonde's calm tone, Quinn sees how tense her body is and how frantic her eyes are, the way they're darting all over her face for some clue as to what's happening.

"It's Santana," Quinn begins slowly and cautiously, knowing that she's about to really upset her sensitive friend.

"I know," Brittany replies, silently trying to urge the other girl to answer as her parents approach after having just spoken with the nurse behind the desk.

"What? How? I haven't told anyone yet," Quinn wonders, both out of genuine curiosity as well as trying to stall even a little.

"The hospital called my parents. They're her emergency contact since hers are never around," is the quick, but bitter response. "What happened?" Brittany stresses with a waver in her tone, growing scared, frustrated and increasingly agitated the longer she goes without knowing anything.

Quinn gets the hint and she takes a deep breath before launching into her explanation. "I went to her house after school like I said I would. No one answered when I knocked and rang the bell so I found the spare key…" she trails off, getting choked up as she thinks about it.

Brittany shoots a helpless look towards her parents as she leads her friend to the hard waiting room chairs. "Take your time Q," she murmurs.

Quinn shakes her head. "It was so quiet and I couldn't remember what room was hers since I've only been in it once. I thought she was asleep and I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn't wake up," she's practically whispering at this point, tightly squeezing the pale hand in her own.

At this, Brittany's breath catches in her throat and she feels a cold chill shooting down her spine, she feels lightheaded. "What happened?" Andrew Pierce asks, saving his daughter the trouble when he sees her barely holding herself together.

"I turned on a light and turned her over. She'd been drinking and there was…on her nightstand was an empty prescription bottle with her mother's name on it. Next thing I know I was calling an ambulance and they were putting these tubes in her and pumping her stomach…" Quinn trails off as she takes in a shuddering breath.

They are all quiet for several moments and it isn't until she feels her mother rubbing her back does Brittany remember to breath. Anne Pierce turns her attention back to the other blonde. "Quinn, do you think…when Santana…is it possible she was trying to…" she releases a sigh and shakes her head at herself for not knowing quite how to verbalize her question.

"I don't know," Quinn answers softly, knowing exactly what the other woman meant.

Brittany furrows her brows at the interaction between the three. "What is it? What's going on?" She demands, the emotional stress already weighing down enough on her.

"Britt-Britt, Sweetheart," Andrew begins tentatively as he leans over to his daughter's seat across from him to take one of her hands, "have you considered the possibility that that maybe this wasn't accident?" He asks, bracing himself for whatever her reaction may be.

"I…I don't understand," Brittany stammers, going pale as she takes her hand out of her father's. It isn't so much that she doesn't understand the question, because she _**does**_, she just really wants to have misheard it or, even better, for her father to take it back.

"Sweetie," Anne begins rubbing her back again, waiting until her daughter turns her attention to her, her expression one of love and sympathy. "We just want you to be prepared in case it turns out that this was a deliberate attempt on Santana's part to try and kill herself," she explains gently.

"No, she wouldn't do that," Brittany asserts confidently, not for a moment believing it to be possible.

"Britt, I know you don't want to think that Santana is capable of wanting to-"

"She promised she'd never do that and she'd talk to me if she thought about it," Brittany her soft voice quivering and her eyes clenched shut.

"She what?" Quinn breathes out, something in her chest constricting painfully at the revelation.

"She wouldn't do that, she promised," the other blonde murmurs, mostly to herself, as she wraps her arms around her stomach, hugging herself as she stares vacantly at the drab linoleum flooring.

Nobody has the heart to contradict her.

* * *

**7:10pm**

"I understand your frustration-"

"Like _**hell**_ you do," Brittany forcefully interrupts, her gaze steely.

"-but I am simply not permitted to give out confidential medical information to anyone outside of relatives or an authorized legal guardian of some kind," the doctor finishes his explanation as if never interrupted. In his line of work he has long since gotten used to the outbursts of angry and/or distraught loved ones.

"But you can't reach her parents and her abuela would only make the situation worse," Brittany tries to appeal but he gravely shakes his head. "This is _**bullshit**_," she growls, her voice cracking just a little on the last syllable.

An arm slips over the blonde's shoulders and coaxes her to turn into a warm embrace. "Britt, please. You are not helping right now," Anne Pierce softly murmurs into her oldest daughter's ear, her voice low because she fears that she wouldn't be able to keep it steady if she tried to speak louder. As hard as this situation is on her, she can't even imagine what her daughter must be going through.

"Dr. Altschul," Andrew Pierce begins quietly, "we know her medical history just as well as we know our own daughters' and certainly much better than her own parents know. The fact that Santana trusted us enough to list us as her emergency contact has to count for something, right?" He implores to the doctor.

"Mr. Pierce, I really do sympathize with you, I do, but I am bound by patient confidentiality laws. As much as I would like to give you more information aside from the fact that she's stable, I simply can't. Just because you're one of her emergency contacts does not give you any kind of legal authorization," Dr. Altschul explains, sounding genuinely regretful.

Quinn, having heard everything, furrows her brows at the doctor's wording. "'_**One of**_ her emergency contacts'? How many does she have? Who else could it possibly be?" She questions, wondering if they should expect someone else to come in…if not her parents.

Eying the other girl carefully, the doctor determines that it would not be breaking any rules to tell them who her other contact is before flipping through some pages on her chart. "There is one other contact listed and they have been granted full legal authority in the event that Ms. Lopez's parents are inaccessible in a situation such as this."

That being said, Quinn can't help but notice Brittany blanching as it sinks in and she is more than a little confused by the reaction. "Who?" She wonders out loud.

"Who do you think Teen Mom?" An uncomfortably familiar voice sneers from behind the group of blondes. "So, Dr. Auschwitz-"

"Altschul, actually," he corrects her, mildly offended.

"Yeah, whatever, like that matters," the newcomer idly waves it off. "How about instead of crying about a mispronunciation of your ridiculous name you tell me what the _**hell**_ is going on here." It is less a question and more of a demand.

"Uh…yes, of course Ms. Sylvester," the doctor agrees, knowing it isn't even worth the trouble to try and argue with her. "Would it be acceptable to discuss this with the others present as well?" He inquires on their (grateful) behalf.

Sue barely shoots an accusing and judgmental glare towards Quinn and Brittany before returning her attention to the doctor. "No you fool," she practically snarls as if it was obvious.

"Right, well…" Dr. Altschul nervously clears his throat, "my office is just this way," he offers an apologetic look towards the group of blondes before escorting Sue down the hall.

Shoulders slumping dejectedly, Brittany shuffles to the nearest empty red chair in the relatively vacant waiting room and nearly collapses into it. Quinn watches her best friend with a sympathetic look, hating to see the other girl so miserable.

"We're just…going to go get some coffee…or something," Andrew non-gracefully stumbles through his less-than-subtle excuse to give the girls some space and let them talk and, maybe, to do the same with his wife.

"Would you like anything?" Anne asks kindly after giving her husband an 'is that the best you can do?' look.

"No thanks," Quinn gives her a weak smile, which Anne returns as reaches out to offer the younger blonde an encouraging squeeze on her shoulder before she and her husband head off towards the general direction of the cafeteria.

Upon seeing Brittany sitting in her chair with one arm across her chest and tucked under the other, which is brought up so she can chew nervously on her fingernails, Quinn comes over to sit beside her once again. She sees the taller girl's right leg bouncing up and down rapidly as she stares down the hallway where Sue and Dr. Altschul disappeared. She prepares herself to say something to bring her friend's attention back to her, but doesn't get the chance.

"I should've gone after her yesterday. I shouldn't have been so mean and I should've known better than to think that 'giving her time' would be a good idea. All it did was give her a chance to get everything twisted up and interpret everything in the worst possible way," Brittany rants out loud under the pretense of speaking to Quinn specifically.

"You couldn't have known this would happen," the other girl points out, reaching over to still the bouncing leg.

"I know how Santana thinks just as well as she knows how I think," Brittany shakes her head at Quinn's words. "That's what Santana does…she'll take the things people say and do then she dwells on it until the meaning is warped into something far worse than it was intended. Then she'll either try to drown out her thoughts or she'll react to them by being even bitchier than usual, especially to whoever said or did whatever upset her in the first place," she babbles on, thinking out loud more than anything.

Quinn considers her friends words for a moment and, in a way, it makes an odd kind of sense. If Santana was brought up to think the worst of herself and was constantly insulted by her own family, then it's pretty much ingrained in her to take most things people say to her in a negative way as well. The only difference is that, unlike with her parents and grandmother, Santana's allowed to retaliate. With all of her pent up hurt and insecurity, she's more easily able to identify others' weaknesses and hit them where it will affect them the most as well. It seems that, in Santana's mind, that hurting others means the same thing as repairing her own wounds inflicted on her by the people that were supposed to love her and take care of her…and raise her.

"You knew it was Coach Sue as soon as the doctor said something about another contact, didn't you?" Quinn asks, already having a strong idea as to the answer. She chooses to leave psychoanalyzing Santana for another time.

Brittany's tense frame relaxes slightly when she feels a comforting hand start rubbing her shoulder. "Sue pretty much grew up with Santana's parents. She and Maribel lived next door to each other," she shakes her head and laughs humorlessly. "One of Sue's former CIA contacts helped influence the decision that led to Santiago being appointed as Head of Neurosurgery at the Cleveland Clinic…the number one neurosurgery department in the country," she adds.

At this, Quinn's hand stills on her friend's shoulder and she leans back heavily in her seat. "Fuck," she breathes out, earning a smirk from the taller blonde at her uncharacteristic cursing. "So they just decided to let Sue do whatever with Santana because he owed her a favor?" She asks incredulously, growing increasingly unsettled by Brittany's inscrutable expression.

"No, they named Coach Sue Sylvester as Santana's godmother," Brittany replies. Opening and closing her mouth several times, Quinn finds herself without words. "If you keep that up I'm going to get worried that I have to throw you in the ocean so you can breathe again," the taller girl deadpans in response to her friend looking like a fish out of water.

Snapping her jaw shut with an audible _click_, the former Head Cheerio tries to process this information. A million questions pass through her mind. _Did her parents simply not care about their decision when they made it? Why would Sue agree? Who else knows?_...and so on. There is only one question that is more important that the others right now.

"Is Coach Sylvester going to be horrible to Santana because of this?" Quinn wonders in a small voice. She's concerned that the older woman is going to berate Santana and try to make her feel worse about whatever happened than the Latina probably already feels.

Brittany studies her friend closely, having an idea as to what the other girl expects from Sue at this point. However, unlike Quinn, Brittany (and Santana) has had the opportunity in the past to see that the tyrannical coach has a soft side as well…especially when it involves one Jean Sylvester.

"No," Brittany answers simply.

Despite the simplicity of the response, Quinn slowly nods in acceptance, trusting the other girl's judgment. She's surprised to find that she actually believes that the older woman isn't going to make things worse for Santana because of this.

For now, the girls lapse into a comfortable silence as they wait for Brittany's parents to come back.

* * *

**8:05pm**

Upon the return of Brittany's parents a short time ago, the group decided it best to wait so that they could speak to Coach Sylvester before going anywhere. Everyone is obviously tired and hungry, but Brittany appears to be significantly more drained than the others. Having slept poorly the night before on top all the stress from today certainly justifies how worn-down the girl looks.

Quinn, who has not once left Brittany's side since she walked in the door, continues rubbing smooth circles on her friend's back as she lets her mind wander. "Hey Britt?" She asks softly, afraid to break the silence in the otherwise vacant waiting room where the only other sound is the loudly ticking clock mounted on the wall.

"Hmm?" Is all the taller blonde can bring herself to reply, not having the energy to speak unless absolutely necessary.

With all three Pierces' attention now on her, Quinn voices the question that's been bothering her ever since Sue disappeared with the doctor and things settled down somewhat. "Where's your sister?" She finds herself asking. The youngest Pierce usually likes to follow her older sister as much as possible and she would especially want to be here if she knew it had something to do with Santana.

"She's staying at a friend's house tonight," Anne speaks up from the row of chairs right across from them since she knows that her daughter's mind is not entirely in the room at the moment.

"Emily probably knows something's going on but she didn't argue. We just told her friend's parents that there was a family emergency and we just needed someone to keep an eye on her for the night and they had no problem with it," Andrew elaborates.

"What friend?" Quinn asks, only mildly interested as she tries to keep the small talk going if for no other reason than to help time pass more quickly. She barely has time to see a look of realization flash through Anne Pierce's eyes before everyone's attention is stolen by Brittany quickly standing up from her seat.

"Well, you're a grim looking group of individuals," Sue chirps condescendingly as she announces her presence to them, all of them now standing up.

"Coach Sue," Brittany sighs, her voice cracking from disuse after nearly an hour, everything from her tone to general demeanor screams how exhausted she is.

The older woman briefly fixes Brittany with an inscrutable look before addressing everyone once again. "Stop being so melodramatic! Even if Lopez _**is**_ dumber than I previously gave her credit for, she's fine," Sue assures them with feigned nonchalance, her airy tone is betrayed by the relief flickering behind her icy gaze.

"Can we see her?" Quinn hesitantly asks.

"No," is Sue's succinct response.

"What Ms. Sylvester means to say is that Ms. Lopez is sleeping and not allowed visitors at this time," Dr. Altschul speaks up, appearing out of, seemingly, nowhere.

Brittany narrows her eyes and prepares herself to argue, but one of her father's arms thrown over her shoulders pulls her into his side. "Thank you doctor," Andrew Pierce smiles tiredly at the other man.

"Of course," the doctor replies politely as he looks between Sue, Quinn and the Pierces. "Please try to rest easy for tonight. Ms. Lopez is in good hands," he states confidently before excusing himself.

"You heard the man. Get lost!" Sue barks and Brittany's parents jump, not used to having Sue shout at them unlike Brittany and Quinn, who merely flinch.

"But-"

"Santana will be fine without you lurking around. _**Go. Home**_," Sue growls, interrupting whatever Brittany was about to say. The other three are more than a little surprised when Brittany doesn't argue but looks back at the cheer coach for a moment before nodding after something seems to pass between them unspoken.

"We can't do anything tonight and we won't be able to support Santana tomorrow if we're exhausted. Let's go home," Brittany says in a subdued tone to her parents and Quinn before turning and making her way to the exit. After a moment of hesitation, the other three follow her.

What Brittany will never tell them is that Sue's last snarled command was accompanied with a pleading look in the older woman's eyes, almost begging them to leave. On top of that, Sue actually referred to Santana by her given name, something she rarely does as she prefers to come up with colorful nicknames or simply call them by their last names. That told Brittany how serious the coach was and that, more than anything, Sue needs to be there and she needs to be alone so she can fully process everything.

With that last part in mind, Brittany grudgingly admits that they all could probably do with some time alone to really process everything that happened today as well. Being in the hospital and unable to see Santana would be kind of pointless.

"Are you going to be okay tonight?" A concerned Quinn brings the taller blonde out of her meandering thoughts.

Brittany offers her a wry smile before speaking. "Do you think you can stay the night?" She asks in lieu of answering the question, knowing that having the other girl over would be just as much for her own benefit as for Quinn's.

"Yes, my mother will understand," is the almost immediate reply. Also, though Quinn doesn't want to say it out loud, she wants to prolong having to retrieve her car from where it's parked in Santana's driveway. She's a little afraid to go back to the house where she found the Latina close to death just a few hours ago.

With that, the exhausted foursome decide to call it a night and head back to the Pierce home for some much needed rest. They all instinctively know that the next few days are likely going to be especially hard and they're going to need all the rest they can get while they can get it. For the time being, all other thoughts are on hold.

* * *

**Wednesday – 7:41am**

Stifling a yawn, Brittany navigates the halls with Quinn. No amount of pleading with her parents could convince them into letting the girls skip school to go back to the hospital. The only thing everyone _**could**_ agree on, however, was not saying anything about what happened to Santana.

Moments after reaching their lockers, the two former Cheerios are too tired to notice the rapidly parting crowd of students around them as an agitated and frantic David Karofsky comes barreling down the hall. He is clearly intent on his destination as his gaze remains fixed on the two girls he is looking for.

"What the _**fuck**_ is going on?" David demands forcefully behind Brittany and Quinn, startling them both before they can even get their lockers open. He briefly shoots a warning look at the surrounding students to get them to back off and mind their own business.

Brittany is the first to regain her bearings once she and Quinn whip around at him suddenly appearing behind them. "Huh?" She articulately retorts.

"Your sister somehow ended up staying the night with Katie in the middle of the week. She said she thought it might have something to do with Santana but no one would tell her anything," the jock explains quickly, glaring at both of them but keeping his voice low enough to keep anyone from overhearing.

"Dave, it's okay. Calm down," Quinn says in a soothing tone with a hand on his upper arm in hopes that his anger will start melting away before they tell him anything.

Shrugging off her hand, David shoots her a dark look. "Don't tell me to calm down Fabray," he growls, unconsciously using her last name the same way Santana always does. "I was up half the night trying to call and text Santana and both of you but none of you bothered to answer. I went by her house and her car and yours were there but no one was home. No one was at your house either Britt to and no one came to the door at your house," he directs towards Quinn.

"We're so sorry David. We had our phones off, but we still should have called you," Brittany softly admits, feeling bad for not thinking to let her friend know that something had happened to his girlfriend. "Come on," she instructs after glancing around at everyone lingering in the hall. She leads the other two into an empty classroom.

Quinn is the last one in, closing and locking the door behind her. Away from the chaos on the other side of the door, David leans against the teacher's desk, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths to settle down some. Opening his eyes back up, he can't help the imploring look in his eyes, almost begging for answers.

"Please, can you at least tell me that Santana's okay?" David pleas quietly. His eyes are red-rimmed, indicating that there's a threat of tears on the horizon. He knows he would never forgive himself if the last time he got to speak to Santana was when they had that argument before first period Monday morning.

"She's…she's fine," Brittany hesitates for a moment because, though the girl in question is _**alive**_, she is far from being 'fine' right now.

"What happened? Is she here today?" David wonders once the relief washes over him and he allows the barest hint of a smile at that small bit of good news.

"We don't know when she'll be back to school," Quinn carefully answers, deliberately sidestepping his first question.

"What aren't you telling me?" He practically demands as he notices the way the two blondes nervously keep looking at one another.

After a short, silent conversation between a pair of blue eyes and a pair of green, both turn back to the other boy. "Santana drank too much and Quinn found her passed out when she went by to check on her since 'Tana skipped yesterday. She had her stomach pumped and is still in the hospital," Brittany informs him, ignoring the quizzical look Quinn is giving her.

For the time being, Brittany thinks it best to leave out the part where Santana also took a bunch of pills and was completely unresponsive when Quinn tried waking her up. She also doesn't think she should mention that there seems to be some debate as to whether Santana was trying to kill herself or not. The last one, however, she leaves out mostly because she's afraid that saying it out loud will make the idea more tangible…or worse, make it true.

"So…it was, like, uh…alcohol poisoning or…something?" David asks, his voice sounding tight and with his Adam's apple bobbing as he keeps swallowing in an attempt to force the lump in his throat to go down.

"Yeah," Quinn slowly confirms, deciding to go along with Brittany to contain the full gravity of the situation from getting out, even if it's to David.

"Why are you guys here? Is she not allowed visitors or something?" He then wonders.

"My parents made us. But I was thinking about skipping glee during lunch to try and see her," Brittany states, which is news to Quinn.

"Me too," the other blonde adds quickly, pleased when Brittany doesn't try to argue.

"Do you mind if I come with you?" David asks earnestly, hating the idea of his friend and fake girlfriend being alone in the hospital.

The two girls shoot one another a short, questioning look before returning their attention to the football player. "You can go with us," Quinn answers.

Any further conversation is quickly put on hold when the ten minute warning bell sounds. As if by silent agreement, they go to the door, unlock it and file back out into the hallway. David and Quinn start to go left towards their respective first period classes but they pause when Brittany turns to go right instead.

"Where are you going?" David questions her, brows furrowed in consternation.

"I'm going to tell Principal Figgins what happened so he doesn't call Santana's parents about her being out for two days in a row," she explains with a shrug.

"You want me to come with?" Quinn offers softly.

"I got it," Brittany offers a weak smile to assure her friend she doesn't need help before making her way to the main office as her friends go to class.

* * *

**Two Hours Later**

Honestly, David doesn't think much of it when Ms. Pillsbury comes into his second period Spanish class a couple minutes before the bell rings to speak to Mr. Schuester. He also pay no mind when some of the other students near the front of the room start whispering to each other after a moment since that's usually the case when a teacher's attention is pulled away from the class like that.

The bell rings and the class begins to disperse and filter out of the room, many of them blatantly texting on their cell phones. He's a high school student so none of this is out of the ordinary in his day to day life. What _**does**_ get his attention, however, is the gossip that finally makes it back to him halfway through his third period class…10 minutes before he is supposed to be leaving with Quinn and Brittany to visit his girlfriend in the hospital.

"Dude, what's up with Santana?" The creepy mulleted ginger hockey player leans over and quietly asks while the teacher is writing on the board.

David barely spares him an irritated side-eye as he continues writing his notes. "She's out sick, not that it's any of your business Rick," he answers tersely, being as vague as possible.

"Not what I heard," Rick scoffs.

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, the football player turns his full attention to the other boy. "What are you talking about? What did you hear?" He questions him cautiously, not wanting to give out any real information.

"She ODed on a bad batch of drugs she got off a shady dealer in Lima Heights Adjacent and she, like, died in the ambulance for 20 seconds before they brought her back and got the hospital. How did you not know this, D?" One of David's teammates on the other side of him wonders.

"Is that seriously what people are saying?" David almost hisses in anger.

"Yeah, and Coach Sylvester was so pissed about it that she broke an orderly's jaw when she got to the hospital. She broke three fingers and is being held by the cops until she cools down. That's why she's not here today," Rick adds.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," David shakes his head and chuckling in, what he hopes, is a believably lighthearted manner.

"You mean none of that is true?" His suspiciously disappointed teammate asks.

"Afraid not. She's just sick," David shrugs just as the bell rings to signal lunch. He tries to be nonchalant as he leaves the room when, really, he wants to run as fast as he can until he finds a particular pair of blonde former-Cheerios.

**Four Minutes Later**

"He looks pissed," Brittany mutters to Quinn as soon as she notices David heading their way. The taller blonde is leaning miserably against the passenger door of her friend's car, her arms crossed over her chest self-consciously.

"What the hell?" He shouts irately and Brittany winces at his tone.

"Dave, you know how twisted everything gets with rumors at this school," Quinn attempts to placate the football player.

"There's more to it than just alcohol poisoning though, isn't there?" David accuses as he reaches them, knowing that a lot of the time, there is still a shred of truth to those rumors. Quinn remains silent.

"She took some pills too," Brittany quietly admits, much to the other blonde's surprise.

"Britt!" Quinn hisses.

"He should know before he sees her and it's better he hears it from us than the doctor or Sue or whoever," the taller girl argues, shaking her head. "We thought the less people that knew what happened the easier it would be to keep it a secret," she breathes out.

"Yeah, well, why is the whole school suddenly talking?" David tries and fails to sound angrier than he is, the sincerity of the other girl's words making it difficult.

"Principal Figgins said something to Ms. Pillsbury so she can speak to Santana when she comes back and she obviously went right to Mr. Schuester and told him. Someone must have overheard and embellished what she told him…or something," Quinn sighs.

The trio stands there awkwardly for a moment as they contemplate the hypothetical series of events that led to the whole school talking about whatever they think happened to Santana to make her miss two days of school.

"Can we just, uh, go to the hospital now?" David mutters self-consciously.

Quinn simply nods and unlocks her car. Wordlessly, David climbs into the backseat as Brittany sits in the passenger seat. Getting in, Quinn adjusts her seat to make sure the football player has enough leg room before starting the car. The drive to the hospital is made in complete silence, no one in the mood to even turn on the radio.

* * *

**An Hour Later**

David is seething quietly on his own and the others, for the most part, are more than happy to keep their distance. Brittany and Quinn, on the other hand, just look concerned but respectfully give him his space. Honestly, for _**their**_ sake, he's glad the others are leaving him alone. He is just _**so angry**_…mostly because he doesn't even know who he's most angry at.

He's angry at Santana for doing this to herself. He's angry at her parents for never being there. He's angry at Brittany for rejecting her in favor of _**Artie**_…then suddenly wanting her again once she and Artie broke up. He's angry at the glee club for not being better friends to her…or friends at _**all**_. Most of all, he thinks, he's angry at himself for standing by and doing nothing when he _**knew**_ that she wasn't alright and that she was struggling because he didn't think she was doing as bad as the doctor seemed to have been suggesting.

Staring at a couple of the others nearby, he decides that, as angry as he is with himself, he is _**pissed**_ at the glee club. He admits that he probably screwed up with Santana but he is at least self-aware enough to acknowledge that much about himself. These people never even _**liked**_ Santana and they certainly aren't willing to shoulder any sort of blame for not seeing there was a problem since it's easier for them to just sit there and judge Santana..._**and**_ him. Sure, the glee club never liked him either and he admits that he's never really been the nicest guy but he doesn't think it's too much to ask for them to stop looking at him like he's an alien or a _**literal**_ monster or a Republican…or something.

After all, David _**is**_ her boyfriend and she hasn't even _**spoken**_ to most of them in almost two months by now. The fact that Kurt seems to be confused as to why David is there in the first place is infuriating. Even knowing that the relationship is fake (at least on his own part) David told the other boy that he cares about Santana and considers her his friend. That being said, he expects Kurt to at least acknowledge that it can't be easy to hear that your friend is in the hospital from a drug overdose and alcohol poisoning…and that it may or may not have been intentional on her part.

When Brittany, Quinn and he got there, the nurse at the reception desk told them that Santana was 'inaccessible' at the moment and that they would have to wait. No more than two minutes later and Mr. Schuester arrived as well because he wanted to personally check on Santana as well. David was pleased to note that Brittany and Quinn seemed to find his presence just as inappropriate as he did. From the football player's understanding, it sounded like Mr. Schuester had a serious double-standard and played favorites. He'd let others get away with saying or doing things that he'd reprimand or punish her (and others) for.

It didn't take long before others from the glee club started filtering in as well since, evidently, there was supposed to have been a glee club meeting at lunch. However, with Mr. Schuester coming to the hospital, he had Ms. Pillsbury stand in for him and she, not surprisingly, was unable to keep from telling the group where he went. Luckily it seems like only a handful followed him.

Kurt, Sam, Finn, Rachel and Tina, oddly enough. With the exception of Tina, Brittany and Quinn, the others kept looking over at him like _**he**_ was the one that didn't belong there. Mr. Schuester at least left already since he had a class.

Still, given the hostility radiating from everyone, it is a mixed blessing when David happens to glance up in time to see Azimio come jogging through the doors into the waiting room. It only takes a moment for the darker athlete to spot David, who he isn't sure is even still his friend, in the corner, his body tense with hurt, anger and anxiety. For his part, David feels a mild bit of relief at having another friendly face there on his side to even up the numbers.

"Man, I got here as soon as I realized you took off when you didn't show up for History after lunch," Azimio explains his presence as he takes his seat next to the other boy, paying no mind to the others clustered nearby. "How you holdin' up?" He asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

It takes every ounce of strength not to start shouting that he's scared right now or that he's angry and sad and everything in between. Instead David just shakes his head and sighs. "I should have been there for her and pushed her to talk instead of just waiting for her to come to me. I could've prevented this," he softly confesses in a defeated tone, only loud enough for the other boy to hear him.

Azimio snorts. "I don't think _**anyone**_ could've stopped this, Karofsky. I warned you Man, girl is crazy," he obliviously shakes his head with a small, sardonic smirk.

"What?" David snarls darkly.

"First chance you get you should tell her that you need some space or time or whatever and break up with her. See, that way you won't get pulled any more into her-"

"You need to go!" David barks as he jumps up out of his chair. "I'm sick and tired of your bullshit and I especially don't need to hear it here," he snaps, looming menacingly over his decidedly _**former**_-friend.

His own anger kicking in and overriding his inappropriate amusement at the situation, Azimo stands back up to face David. "C'mon Man, that _**whore**_ is so not even worth it!" He spits out disdainfully. The present members of the glee club, led by Brittany and Quinn, are out of their seats and cautiously approaching the duo, their own anger rising at the jock's words as well.

Azimio has a lot more to say on the topic. Ever since the fallout between him and his former best friend because of one Santana Lopez, he's been building up with even more negative thoughts regarding the cheer captain than before. However, he does not get the chance to voice any of those aforementioned negative thoughts thanks to a loud, sickening _crack!_ silencing him as David doesn't hesitate in aiming an enraged fist at the other boy's face.

"_**Yes**_, she _**is**_," he growls down at the fallen jock as he forcefully corrects him. "And you have _**no**_ right to talk about her like that," he adds just as threateningly, oblivious to the pain shooting up his right arm from the force of the hit.

The darker boy is sprawled out on the floor and groaning in pain with a hand covering half of his mouth and the bottom part of his nose. Brittany slowly approaches as she is the first one to recover from the shock. She looks down at him as she stands by his feet with an inscrutable expression on her face before drawing back a little and delivering a cringingly fierce kick right between his legs. Unsurprisingly, Azimio cries out in pain and curls up into himself on the floor.

"Yeah, what _**he**_ said," Brittany glares even though he is too preoccupied to process her words. Turning around, she catches David's eyes as she starts walking towards him. She returns the small smile of appreciation he gives her as they share a look of understanding and mutual respect.

Somehow they manage to escape being thrown out by security as everyone claims it was self-defense. Azimio, on the other hand, is thrown out once the hospital clears him of being seriously injured. Still David, Brittany and Quinn convince the others to go back to school under the stipulation that they'll keep them posted if there's any news.

* * *

**Another Hour Later**

"You're lying!" Brittany accuses firmly, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Afraid not my dear, sweet, simple-minded former minion," Sue patronizingly retorts. "Our favorite little Chalupa doesn't want any visitors," she repeats herself.

"Well, go in there and ask her again. Tell her that it's us and we want to see her. We've been sitting here waiting for two hours and we're not going to just give up and leave just because you said so," Quinn demands.

Coach Sylvester glances down at the clipboard in her hands. "Sorry Benedict Fabray, but you three are _**not**_ on the guest list," she shrugs, her tone openly condescending. "Lopez doesn't want to see anyone," she reiterates, leaving out the part where Santana said she didn't even want to see Sue, but didn't have any choice in regards to her cheer coach.

"Can you at least tell her we came by?" David dejectedly asks, shoulders slumped and his hands buried in the pockets of his letterman jacket.

"And give her this?" Quinn questions in the same tone as she hands the older blonde Santana's cell phone.

After a mild glare between the three of them, her eyes lingering a little longer on a particularly miserable looking Brittany, the coach comes to a decision. "Only if you two do something for me," Sue says as she looks at the two blondes.

The girls in question give David a pointed look. "I'll just wait over there," he sighs, nodding his head to a row of chairs lined up on the wall a little ways down the hall from where they're currently standing in front of Santana's room.

"What do you need us to do?" Brittany hesitantly inquires, expecting nothing better from the other woman than humiliation, degradation and pain.

Sue carefully scrutinized them for a moment before speaking again, "I need you to go to her house and…"

David watches in confusion as, from down the hall, he notices Coach Sylvester pull a sheet of paper off her clipboard and hand it to Brittany before taking Santana's cell phone from Quinn. Before they leave, it looks like Sue is pulling something from her pocket and fumbling around with it before giving it to Brittany. He couldn't be certain as to what it was or what was done to it because his view was obscured by the two blondes.

"What did she want?" He is quick to ask when they walk by him so they can make their way to the elevator so they can go back downstairs and leave.

"Nothing. Just Sue being Sue," Quinn sighs resignedly and Brittany nods softly in agreement. David's shoulders sag as he trails behind them.

* * *

**2:36pm**

Having dropped David off back at school after leaving the hospital, Brittany and Quinn immediately went to Santana's house. Quinn was hesitant in going inside at first due to what happened the last time she'd been here, but she took a deep breath and followed Brittany.

Now, almost an hour and a half after getting there, the pair is almost done getting everything on Sue's list. The entire experience has been mildly unsettling for them both. Packing up things in Santana's eerily silent and empty house while knowing that there is no threat of the Latina catching them makes them both even more uncomfortable than it would if they _**were**_ afraid of her walking in at any moment. Though neither of them will dare say it, in light of what just happened, they very easily could've ended up having to pack up the _**whole room**_ since Santana probably would never have woken up again had Quinn not gotten there when she did. Knowing there's no chance of Santana interrupting now makes it almost feel like that's what they're doing anyways.

"This is weird, isn't it?" Quinn softly breaks the silence as she stares blankly at the four Cheerio uniforms neatly hanging in the walk-in closet.

"Yeah," Brittany agrees just as quietly as she carefully selects the sweatpants and sleep-shorts that she knows are Santana's favorites out of the top drawer in the dresser before moving to the second one, repeating the process with her t-shirts, tank tops and long-sleeve shirts.

A few more minutes pass before Quinn turns her attention back to her friend with a sigh, her expression quickly twists into one of confusion when Brittany starts on the next drawer. "Who the hell keeps their socks and…'underthings' in the third drawer instead of the top one?" She can't help but ask as she wanders over.

Brittany quirks her lips up slightly when Quinn says 'underthings', but chooses not to comment. "Santana hated that it seemed like everyone had the exact same method of putting things away in their dressers. As far as she could tell, everyone always had their socks and 'underthings' in the top drawer, shirts in the second and pants in the bottom drawer. So, in protest, she decided to reverse that," she explains, a fond smile on her face as she does so.

Quinn doesn't bother trying to hide her smile at that. She's been enjoying a lot of the random things she's been learning about the other two members of the former 'Unholy Trinity'. Another question wiggles its way into the forefront of her mind as she unplugs the laptop on the desk and places it in the bag along with its cord on top of the folded clothes once Brittany finishes up at the dresser.

"How did you two never get creeped out spending time alone in this house so much?" Quinn can't help but ask. Though she's sure the two found plenty of time to fill the silence in the house, it had to have been a little scary sometimes with it being so still all the time without Santana's parents or pets or anything.

The taller blonde stalls for time as she goes to Santana's nightstand in search of her iPod. She falters slightly when she sees the empty orange bottle than Quinn had mentioned last night sitting right on top. However, the bottle isn't what catches her off-guard so much as what's _**under**_ it.

"I can't speak for Santana, but I used to like pretending that we were older and this was _**our**_ house that we lived in together. It wasn't that hard because her parents were never home so we always had plenty of privacy. Besides, there's a ton of my stuff still in here anyways so this always felt like _**our**_ room and not just her room, just like with my room at my house," she shrugs, sounding distracted as she tentatively moves the orange bottle.

With a small bittersweet smile, Brittany finds her own handwriting looking back up at her from the (now tear-stained) note she left for Santana a little over a month ago. She picks it up, surprised at how shaky her hands are and reads over the familiar words.

'_Please talk to me. I miss you. I still love you. __**Always**__. - B_'

Brittany is somewhat glad to know that Santana at least found and read her note since it's no longer on top of the dresser. The fact that it's on Santana's nightstand means a lot too since it was so close to the darker girl at night when she slept. A cold chill shoots down her spine at the thought that there is a good chance that her note from so long ago might have been the last thing Santana read before passing out and, eventually, waking up in the hospital. It's even worse when she realizes that there was also a good chance that, had things played out differently yesterday, then her note might have been the last thing Santana read _**ever**_.

"Britt, you okay?" Quinn gently asks as she sets a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. Hearing about the other blonde picturing her and Santana being together and having their own home in the future was incredibly sweet, but also a little heartbreaking considering the current circumstances. She can't even imagine how the other girl must be feeling right now.

"Yeah," Brittany breathes out, surprised at how thick her voice sounds before sniffling. Suddenly aware of the warm tears streaking down her cheeks, she quickly pockets the note before trying to wipe them away.

"I'm just going to put her Cheerio uniforms in the duffel bag then we're done," Quinn says, not convinced in the least, but knowing not to push her either.

"Uh, you can't do that, it would piss her off. Leave them on the hangers and we'll just carry them out," Brittany states, turning back to the nightstand when Quinn nods and walks back into the closet.

Opening the drawer of the nightstand, Brittany quickly grabs the iPod and its cord, pausing before closing back up again. Right there in the otherwise empty drawer is a framed picture from Brittany's 16th birthday last year.

They're on the couch in Brittany's living room, both asleep after the massive sugar crash after too much ice cream and frosting…then cake with more frosting. Brittany is stretched out on her back with Santana laying right on top of her with her head nestled against the blonde's neck and Brittany's face buried in Santana's hair. Their arms are wrapped affectionately around each other and their legs in a tangled mess. Brittany had no idea this picture even existed. She can't help but wonder how Santana even got this picture.

"You ready?" Quinn asks, hating to pull the other girl out of her daze, but knowing that they need to get going.

"Yeah," Brittany nods as she turns and packs the iPod and the picture in the duffel bag before zipping it up. "Let's go," she says, leading the way back to the car, Quinn behind her with Santana's uniforms and her backpack.

* * *

**Thursday – 11:17am**

Staring tiredly out the window of the passenger seat, she can't help but notice as the vehicle continues right passed her street. Her brows furrow in confusion as she turns her attention to the driver. Seeing the older woman's tightened jaw and white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel briefly gives her pause.

"Where are we going?" Is the first thing either of them have said since leaving the hospital. Her voice is soft and tentative.

Sue cuts an inscrutable look to her squad captain before returning her attention to the road. "My house," she replies simply and without explanation.

"Why?"

"You're staying with me," Sue answers, her tone equally as clipped as it was a moment before.

"Shouldn't I at least get some stuff from my house?" Santana is trying to stall as much as possible. The only thing she wants right now is to be left alone without being questioned or evaluated or any of that garbage. Being forced to share the same living space with Sue Sylvester is, quite possibly, her worst nightmare.

"Some of your fellow students were kind enough to take care of that yesterday," she informs her.

Santana sighs, knowing that getting anything out of the older woman right now is near impossible. She chooses to spend the rest of the short drive idly playing with her hospital wrist band. It actually scares her more that her coach doesn't sound angry or condescending like she usually does and it worries her that she has yet to have been called any of Coach Sue's colorful nicknames since Monday. For now, she chooses not to think about who went to her house and went through her things because it won't do her any good right now.

"Lopez," Sue says as they pull up in the driveway of her oddly normal-looking two-story home.

"Yes Coach," Santana sounds far weaker than she intended as she looks up…mostly because she was too caught off guard by Sue's relatively soft tone…at least compared to her usual barking, snarling, yelling tones she regularly uses.

The tyrannical blonde is, surprisingly, the first one to break their gaze, albeit briefly. A split second later and she turns back to fix the Latina with a firm stare. "When I convinced your doctor that you were just being a stupid, careless, reckless teenager and that this," she indicates the hospital band on the teen's wrist, "was all an accident so that he would let me discharge you, I wasn't lying, was I?" She questions sternly, scrutinizing every little movement of the girl's face, eyes and body language for the answer…or any sign of deception.

Santana knows exactly what the other woman is _**really**_ asking and she knows that it's the same thing few others are probably asking as well, she expected this since she woke up in the hospital. Sue is asking if Santana deliberately tried to kill herself or if it was just a case of her not knowing what she was doing while she was drunk or simply not knowing her own limits.

"No Coach, you weren't lying," Santana answers, her voice sounding far stronger than it has been throughout the rest of the conversation.

For several long moments Sue simply stares at her, waiting to see if the other girl cracks. When she doesn't, she nods at Santana before turning off the engine and getting out of the car. After a moment, Santana get out as well and follows Sue inside the familiar ridiculously trophy-filled house.

"You look tired. Go upstairs and sleep it off," Sue instructs as she stands just inside the door. Wavering for a moment, Santana makes her way to the staircase but only manages to get one foot on the bottom step. "And Lopez, don't forget that if I find out you were lying to me, I won't hesitate to drive you right back to the hospital and have them put you under suicide watch in the psych ward for a week," she practically threatens.

"I understand," Santana nods slowly, having no doubt the other woman isn't exaggerating for once.

"Good. Now, get some rest or do your homework or…whatever, I don't care as long as you _**behave**_. I need to be back at the school in 30 minutes so I'll see you in a little over four hours," the coach informs her.

"Wait, you're not worried about leaving me here by myself after…this?" Santana immediately regrets asking, knowing it was stupid of her to question the other woman.

"Why should I worry? You told me yourself it was an accident and, unless it's an 'accident' you intend to repeat, then I see no reason why you should be babysat 24-7," Coach Sylvester shrugs, daring Santana to contradict her and give her reason to take her right back to the hospital.

"You're right, I'll see you later Coach," the teen nods. Once again Sue managed to surprise her since she never imagined the older woman would willingly put so much trust in her like this after Tuesday.

Wordlessly Sue just nods before leaving again. With a sigh, Santana goes upstairs to where she thinks she remembers the spare bedroom being from the few times she's been here. For having already spent the better half of the week in a bed sleeping, she can't believe how tired she still is.

* * *

**Meanwhile**

The sound of a few light notes drifting down the hall is enough to bring a small smile to Brittany's face. She is glad she doesn't have Quinn breathing down her neck and asking if she's okay every three seconds as she makes it to her destination. Peeking in the window in the door to make sure the person she's looking for is there and alone, she quietly turns the knob and pushes in before closing it behind her just as quietly. Not wanting to startle him too much, she simply stands behind him while he finishes.

It doesn't take long and once done, without even looking, he lifts up a hand and motions for Brittany to come closer. The blonde isn't even surprised that he knew she was there. She's already long been convinced that he's a psychic or magical…or the actual Wizard of Oz.

After a couple long strides, Brittany is standing beside the piano bench and shucking her backpack off her shoulders and setting on the ground in one fluid motion. The blonde takes a seat next to him on his right side as she turns to look at him with a weak smile.

His dark blonde eyebrows rise slightly in question, curiously but not in the same exasperated way he raises them when Rachel asks him to do something. "Hi Brad," she quietly greets the pianist and sign language teacher.

Brad simply nods in acknowledgement, his goatee around his mouth twitches enough to tell Brittany that he's trying not to smile at her.

"You probably heard about something happening with Santana by now," Brittany says, but it sounds more like a question. He nods again, dropping his gaze for a moment, his expression suddenly grim. "I know you and I haven't really talked much in the last couple of weeks…well, not that you talk inside the school anyways," she shakes her head with a humorless laugh as she lightly brushes the fingertips of her right hand over the piano keys, not hard enough to make a noise, but enough to distract herself.

A warm hand covering Brittany's left one sitting on the bench brings her attention back to him. Brad offers her a comforting smile that assures her that he understands and he's not upset about it.

"It's just, Santana trusts you and talks to you and you probably understand her more than just about anyone else," Brittany rants slightly before catching herself and Brad does nothing since he can tell she's psyching herself up to get to her point. "You know how we were just doing Fleetwood Mac and that I didn't do anything for it?"

Even though her question is rhetorical, she still shoots the other man an expectant look. Brad nods simply, patiently waiting for her to go on.

"It wasn't because I didn't have a song or anything in mind, but because I wasn't going to sing the song I _**wanted**_ to sing if the person I wanted to sing it _**to**_ wasn't in the room," Brittany explains herself before reaching for her bag and pulling out some sheet music. She doesn't give it to him right away as she hugs it to her chest as if it were a shield of some kind.

Brad offers her a faint smile of encouragement when she turns her body towards him.

"I…Just..." she trails off and shakes her head as she tries to get her words right. "Do you think she would like this song if I sang it to her?" She asks as she reluctantly hands over the sheet music.

A smile appears as soon as he reads the title and it only widens as he reads through the lyrics. Brittany's shoulders sink in relief when he nods confidently.

"Could you maybe play it when I sing it for her?" Brittany asks him shyly.

Brad can't help but grin as he rolls his eyes and nods. One of the things he loves best about Brittany and Santana is that, unlike others in glee club that shall remain unnamed – such as Rachel Berry – they will ask rather than demand that he plays for them.

"Thank you!" The teen blurts as she hugs him briefly and notices as questioning look come over his face as he seems to realize something. Brittany quickly picks up on what he must be wondering. "Don't worry, I'll get her here," she nods determinedly before picking up her backpack as she stands back up.

Brad watches her head back to the door and waits until she's just about to grab the handle. "Good luck Brittany," he offers gently, his tone warm and friendly.

Slowly the blonde girl turns around, her mouth slightly opened but the corners of her lips slightly quirked up before turning into a full-fledged grin at the rare event of the other man talking in the school. "Thanks again Brad," she says, knowing that he's wishing her luck with Santana in general and not just getting her to the choir room.

With that Brittany steps back into the hallway and, after a quick glance in each direction to make sure no teachers are lingering around, she pulls out her phone and brings up her contacts. Not even two rings later and the end picks up.

"Hey David," Brittany greets slowly. "You know that favor you still owe me? Well…"

* * *

**Friday – 12:12am**

After a decidedly weird evening spent with one Sue Sylvester, Santana is still trying to wrap her mind around everything that led to her to sleeping in her Cheerio coach's spare bedroom. Actually, she only spent the first half hour after 'going to bed' thinking about that. For the last hour and forty-two minutes she's been thinking about the note sitting on top of the framed picture she found sitting on top of her socks in the third drawer down in the dresser.

Shortly after Sue left to go back to McKinley, Santana went to get changed and she found the note Brittany left for her after that party a month ago. She saw the picture from Brittany's birthday last year underneath of it. Mrs. Pierce took that picture with one of those crappy disposable cameras and forgot about it. When Santana offered to take it up and have the pictures developed a month or so later, she saw the picture and claimed it as her own.

Even if she ignored the fact that her socks were in the third drawer, shirts in the second and pants in the top one, then the presence of that note and picture would be enough to tell her exactly who it was that got her stuff together from her room. Brittany and, probably, Quinn. Still, even after reading over the short note dozens of times after she first found it a month ago and dozens more after finding it here, she still read it over once she got into bed. At this point, she didn't even need any light to know exactly what it said or the exact curves of the letters forming the words scrawled on it.

Santana knows that, despite everything, seeing that note means that Brittany still means the words she wrote. She is still trying to make sense of everything in her head but the one thing she knows for sure is that, just like the first time she read it, the note still brings tears to her eyes. Having tucked the aforementioned note under her pillow instead of putting it back when she started to get tired, Santana finally managed to start drifting off to sleep.

It is when Santana is hovering right in that warm, comfortable space between being asleep and being awake that the bedroom door is thrown open and light from the hallway flood the room.

"Wha…?" Santana tiredly question as she shoots up in bed and turns to the shadowy figure still gripping onto the door handle.

"Get your shoes on Santana and bring your license, you're driving," Sue says in no uncertain terms.

"Where're we going?" She wonders, her voice slurring sleepily as she rolls out of bed and starts pulling on her white Cheerio tennis shoes next to the bed.

"The hospital," is the all-too-brief answer.

Santana pauses momentarily before she finishes tying her last shoe. "But I didn't…I wasn't…" she doesn't know what to think since she doesn't think she gave the other woman reason to take her back to the hospital. Then again, why would Sue make her drive?

"It's Jean," Sue states, understanding what the girl was trying to say.

At this, Santana's head shoots up and the light manages to catch Sue's face just enough for her to see the strain on the older woman's features as she tries to keep her emotions in check. "Is she okay?" She asks as she snatches her driver's license out of her backpack and approaches her coach.

"She's dead," Sue attempts to deadpan but her voice wavers on the last syllable.

This causes Santana to freeze up before her brain starts working again after a moment. She takes the keys limply hanging in Sue's hand. "Let's go," she says gently as she leads Sue to the car, thankful the older woman knew she was in no state to drive herself.

* * *

I meant to have this up a week ago but my original version of this in my notes needed more rewriting than I thought. Also, season 3 on DVD was a distraction too ;)

Yes, I know Santana didn't actually appear much in this, but everything that happened was at least centered around her. Expect to see more of her coming up though to make up for it.

For the sake of accuracy, I would like to mention that in Santana's given circumstances, she would not have actually been a candidate to have her stomach pumped. That procedure is only effective if the substances had been taken within an hour of the actual procedure and Quinn had no way of knowing when Santana had actually taken them. I just wanted to make it clear that it was only used for dramatic purposes but, medically speaking, it was inaccurate.

As mentioned, I didn't really revise before posting so please let me know of any mistakes so I can fix them. All that aside…thoughts?


	19. Then I Remember You

Happy belated holidays to all or, if you don't celebrate any of them, then happy Saturday (at least in Eastern Standard Time).  
I know it's been way too long and I'm sorry. Work and the family have been keeping me especially busy lately and I had the first half of the first scene (about two pages) written for about 2 months before I was able to finish it in the last five days…and yes, that means I had two pages sitting for two months and finished the other thirteen pages in five days. I'm terrible.

**A/N:** Progress is made in this chapter and, while there are a some tears being shed, no one screams or shouts or ends up in a hospital. Though there is a lot of Jean-centric action going on due to how close Santana and Brittany are to Sue in this story, it serves as kind of the backdrop to getting our girls talking and slowly beginning to mend their relationship.

**Spoilers**: _Funeral_

**WARNINGS**: Minor language, nothing graphic or overly angsty…surprised? OH!...The end notes are epically long, but vaguely important in regards to the next chapter and the next story I decide to unleash on this site.

* * *

**CHAPTER NINTEEN: Then I Remember You**

**Friday – 11:50 am**

To say that her day so far had been surreal would be a gross understatement. With Sue having decided to go to school despite their eventful midnight trip to the hospital, Santana has spent the last couple of hours in Jean's room at the home packing up her belongings. It is almost painfully reminiscent of last summer when she had to do the same thing for her grandmother that had passed away in this same building.

Knowing that she'll be here for a while, Santana has been taking her time packing everything away. It has been a good distraction from everything else going on in her life right now. The things in the room are still bringing forth quite a few memories, but they're the good kind.

Sitting on the now stripped bed, she neatly packs some of the lighter miscellaneous items into the small box on top of the ancient VCR. A fond, nostalgic smile graces her lips at the sight of a familiar VHS sitting in the top drawer of the small TV stand.

"I love that movie," a soft, even more familiar voice almost seems to whisper from the doorway behind her.

Santana stiffens slightly at the words, but more so from surprise than from the person saying them. She turns slightly to confirm that the other girl is really in there with her. "I know you do B…me too," she replies in a near-whisper.

"I know," Brittany repeats back to her with a small, sad smile. "I-"

"Did Sue send you here to check up on me or something?" Santana asks, cutting off whatever the blonde was planning on saying since the last thing she wants is to be reminded of the events of the past week…or couple of months, for that matter.

"No. She'd actually probably be pissed if she knew I was here," Brittany chuckles wryly in response. "I went to ask her why you weren't in school but Ms. Pillsbury was in her office when I got there," she begins, nervously biting her bottom lip. "I overheard that Sue kicked Becky off the squad and that, um…Jean died last night," she says the last part softly.

"Oh," Santana breathes, mouthing the word more than speaking it, her shoulder sink as she releases some of the tension built up in them.

"After that I figured you'd probably be here," the taller girl finishes her explanation and the room lapses into silence. "Do you need help?" She offers after a moment, a hopeful lilt in her tone.

Santana glances around at the mostly packed up room before shaking her head a little. "I'm almost done and I don't want you to miss class or get in trouble for skipping," she says even though she kind of wishes that the other girl could stay.

"I have some time before my next class starts," Brittany shrugs easily, wanting to stay with Santana just as much as the brunette wants her to…if not more.

For a moment the shorter girl hesitates to accept fearing that her counterpart will use this time to try and bring up one of the _**many**_ topics on their ever-growing '_List of Things We Need to Talk About_'. "Okay," Santana eventually replies with a shy but grateful smile, knowing that Brittany isn't going to try and bring up any heavy topics when they don't have nearly enough time to clear anything up before the blonde has to leave again.

Brittany doesn't even bother to try fighting off a grin as she makes her way closer to the Latina, relieved. The bounce that has been missing in her step lately returns with a vengeance as she practically skips across the room to a now-standing Santana and stopping just over a foot away from the girl.

"So, what do we have left?" Brittany asks eagerly.

Santana glances around the room as an excuse to avoid meeting the blonde's penetrating blue eyes because she's afraid of what Brittany will see reflected in her own. This is the closest they've been to one another since Monday in the library. Her pulse predictably quickens at their proximity in the way she's gotten used to it doing a long time ago but has never wanted to admit to herself why it does so and what it means.

"Just some random stuff on the dresser and her stuffed animals," Santana eventually answers, her tone soft and pensive.

The blonde flashes a bright smile and nods before moving past Santana to get to the dresser. Despite the ample space to get by, she passes the darker girl close enough that their arms brush and her pinky briefly hooks around Santana's before letting go. Not once does Brittany break her stride.

On the other hand, Santana stands frozen with her eyes closed and her breath momentarily caught in her throat at the unexpected gesture. All she can really do is hope that this means that Brittany hasn't given up and isn't going to leave her. She finally takes in a slow, deep breath and opens her eyes.

As Brittany neatly stacks Jean's books (from authors including the likes of Roald Dahl, Dr. Seuss and L. Frank Baum), her smile slowly fades. Two days ago Brittany felt like she had come so close to having to do the same thing for Santana that she's doing for Jean right now. Her mouth opens to try and articulate her thoughts before she shuts it once again, shaking her head at herself. She may have almost lost her best friend and soul mate, but Sue _**did lose**_ her best friend and sister and they need to focus on that right now before they can deal with their own complicated mess.

"So, she kicked Becky off the squad, huh?" Santana questions, breaking Brittany out of her thoughts in an attempt at small talk.

Brittany can help but be grateful for the distraction. "Yeah. She came to Mr. Schue with her mom asking to join the glee club and that's when she said Sue kicked her off," she explains.

Santana frowns deeply at this before shaking her head slightly. "I'm sure Becky will be back on by the end of next week," she predicts, earning a nod from the other girl. They both know full-well that Sue is just reacting to Jean's death and she'll eventually come to her senses.

"How are you doing with…all this?" Brittany hesitates on how to word her question, not wanting to say something that would make the other girl shut her out again since they're already too tentative with each other for Brittany's liking.

Forcing down her innate need to shrug and act unaffected, Santana decides to instead try and work on being honest. "It doesn't feel real…just like when we were doing this for my abuela last summer," she confesses softly.

The blonde glances over at Santana, a bit surprised at her honesty as well as her mentioning her abuela since they never really ever talked about it after the older woman passed away. She still remembers how hard it was for the other girl when that happened and how her panic and inner turmoil – that she would never talk about – somehow resulted in her getting breath implants. Secretly Brittany blames this on her mean abuela and Santana not having her nice one there to balance out the negativity which caused Santana's negative body image to hit an all-time low.

"She made the best churros and hot chocolate," Brittany eventually says with a warm, reminiscent smile at the thought of the other girl's deceased grandmother. Of the infinite possible replies to Santana's words, she chooses to go with something lighthearted and that brings forth fond memories for the both of them. Something positive…for a change.

The blonde watches the slow smile curl up at the corner of the darker girl's lips. Not a smirk or a sarcastic grin, but a genuinely happy smile as she thinks about the older woman. "My favorites were the ones she filled with dulce de leche," she informs her…friend.

At this, the taller of the pair can't help the giggle that rises from the back of her throat. Santana giggles instinctively but with a confused quirk to her brows because, even though she has no idea what the other girl finds funny, it's always been a reflex for her to mirror the other girl's amusement. Brittany's laugh is infectious…for the Latina, at least.

"Remember the last time she made those dulce de leche churros?" Brittany asks upon seeing the confusion on her face and watches as comprehension dawns on her, releasing a muted laugh.

"The three of us ate them in the courtyard with Jean and Sue," Santana recalls with a shake of her head.

"You, me and Jean had powdered sugar and dulce de leche all over our hands and faces," Brittany remembers as she places the last items from the top of the dresser into the open box and moving to sit – at a respectable distance, of course – next to the other girl on the bed.

"We were so sticky and messy that when your parents came to pick us up they threatened to make us ride home in the trunk to keep us from ruining the seats," Santana grins, her and Brittany laughing at the memory.

Brittany openly stares at Santana, scanning over her face and body as her eyes try to take in as much of the other girl as possible. She feels like something heavy has been lifted off her chest at the sight of the other girl smiling and laughing so genuinely again…especially after the week they've had. Their laughter eventually dies down naturally and an intense, but not uncomfortable or painful, silence envelops them.

Santana's gaze finds Brittany's and her grin relaxes into a soft smile. Before Brittany even realizes that she's doing it, her hand is already ghosting across the smooth, tan skin of the smaller girl's temple under the pretense of brushing a stray lock of hair – which isn't actually there – behind her ear. It's just an excuse to touch her, to feel her warm skin under her fingers again. Her heart unclenches when, instead of jolting away, the Latina's eyes drift closed and she subtly leans into the touch, her lips parting slightly to release a soft sigh.

Unconsciously the two girls start to lean towards one another. Even after their fight on Monday and everything that's happened since that's kept them from seeing or speaking to one another, they still can't fight the pull that continues to draw them together. It isn't long before they can feel the other's breath on her lips and, in the back of her mind, Brittany idly wonders when it was that her eyes fell closed.

_Buzz! Buzz!_

Startled, their eyes snap open as their head jolt away from each other. Their breathing is far too heavy for the innocence of the act they'd been moments from engaging in. A moment of disorientation has fogged over their brains from being thrust back to reality before either of them is ready. It takes a few seconds for Brittany to comprehend what the noise was before lethargically glancing around and spotting her purse behind her on the middle of the bed to retrieve her phone.

"It looks like the glee club is in charge of planning Jean's service this Sunday," Brittany informs the other girl after skimming over the text Rachel sent to the whole club.

The shorter girl frowns a little at the news. While not surprised that Sue didn't feel like she'd be able to plan her sister's funeral on her own, she didn't expect that the other woman would enlist the glee club – who she's long since declared her mortal enemy – to do it for her. Her eyes fall on the nearly forgotten _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory _VHS still sitting on the bed with her. She drums her fingers on the black, plastic tape for a moment in thought before looking back over to the blonde beside her.

"I'm helping," Santana declares. It isn't a question.

"I'll tell them," Brittany replies simply. She isn't going to ask the glee club if it's okay, she's going to tell them what's going to happen.

Santana looks back to the blonde and smiles at her in appreciation. She opens her mouth to say something before the screen on the other girl's phone catches her eyes and her brows furrow. "You need to go back to school," she states, trying to cover her disappointment as best she can.

Brittany frowns as she follows her gaze to the time displayed on her phone and her shoulders slump when she realizes the other girl is right. "Yeah," she sighs glumly, not bothering to hide her displeasure.

As if rehearsed, they shift and stand up at the exact same time, their synchronicity with one another just as strong as ever. After putting her phone back in her purse Brittany shyly looks back to Santana. Hesitating for a moment, she steps forward and wraps the other girl in loose, but comfortable, hug. They take advantage of the embrace and inhale the other girl's scent as subtly as possible, both of their bodies relaxing ever-so-slightly at the familiarity. With great reluctance, they eventually pull apart but with Brittany's hands still resting on Santana's hips and Santana's hands sit on the taller girl's shoulders.

"Tell the club to meet here in the room next to the chapel to plan the service. I have an idea and I need to talk to Reverend Townsend but I'm sure he won't have a problem with it," Santana softly says, knowing the chaplain won't mind since that room is mostly used just for a prayer circle and AA meetings and it's free until Saturday afternoon.

Brittany simply nods. "Okay. I'll, um, see you tomorrow then," she states, her heart pounding at being able to say that again after going so long not speaking to or, this week at least, not seeing one another.

Santana swallows thickly as she nods her head. Reluctantly they remove their hands from the other's body, both fighting their instinctual urge to kiss the other goodbye, whether it be a brief peck on the lips or an affectionate kiss on the forehead or cheek. They both know it's too soon for that and they still have a lot to discuss…after the funeral.

Before the blonde can leave, Santana takes the old, worn VHS copy of _Willy Wonka_ and hands it to her, almost as a hint as to her idea. There is a final shared smile between them before Brittany leaves to go back to school and Santana hopes that choosing to help the glee club plan Jean's memorial wasn't a mistake.

* * *

**6:00pm**

Dinner with Sue is an unsurprisingly quiet and uncomfortable event. Under any circumstances different from these, Santana would have been thrilled to have had BreadstiX delivered. With everything going on right now, however, Santana doesn't even taste her food as she almost robotically chews and swallows each bite, staring blankly at the khaki-colored wall in front of her seat at the dining table, deep in thought.

"New Directions is planning Jean's memorial," Sue says out of nowhere, interruption the silence that has settled over them for the past hour and a half, only broken to ask what the teen wanted from BreadstiX and to inform said teen that the food had arrived.

Santana jumps at the sound of the Cheerio coach's sudden voice before it sinks in what she told her. She feels her chest constricting and her stomach knotting up in anxiety when she realizes that she's going to have to tell Sue that she's helping them since there is no way that she'll be able to sneak out without the other woman noticing. Even though Sue took her to pick up her car from her house after they left the nursing home, the other woman will still be keeping tabs on her in spite of what she's going through with the loss of her sister.

"I know. I'm helping them in the morning," Santana decides to just bite the bullet and tell her.

Sue doesn't look the least bit surprised which catches Santana off guard, though she curses herself for having not seen it coming that Sue would expect someone from New Directions at least text her.

"Are you?" Sue questions skeptically, scrutinizing the girl in front of her to try and detect any deception on the Latina's part.

"Yes," is the simple, honest answer. Brittany had sent her a text around 5:30 saying that she and the rest of the glee kids would meet her at Pinecrest Nursing Home. Santana tries not to dwell on what it means that the text came about an hour after glee club usually ended. She prefers to let herself think that it just ended late rather than jump to the conclusion that it actually took Brittany two hours to convince them that it was a good idea.

After several moments, Sue gives a stiff nod. "Okay," she says clearly.

Santana blinks incredulously for a moment at the lack of interrogation. "That's it?" She asks, waiting for the coach to try and call her bluff by demanding to see proof, such as reading her text messages, and then calling all the members of the glee club as well as Mr. Schuester to confirm. It felt far too easy.

Sue releases a tired sigh as she sets her fork down on her plate and considers the other girl. "What did you expect? I am going to trust you until you give me a reason not to. If you tell me that you're helping the glee club tomorrow or that your fake boyfriend likes boys or that Tuesday was…an accident," she pauses for a moment to reign in the swirl of emotions threatening to make an appearance, "then I'll believe you as long as you don't give me a reason not to," she finishes.

"I understand…Thank you," the petite Cheerio captain softly replies, a little blown away by the fact that her sadistic, insane coach that hates everyone and is skeptical of anything anyone ever says is able to actually put her trust in Santana.

They are silent for a moment as Sue gathers her thoughts. "Is there any reason why I _**shouldn't**_ trust you about meeting with those idiots tomorrow?"

"No," Santana replies truthfully.

"Are you sure? After all, you've already come pretty close to making this the _**second**_ funeral in less than a week rather than the _**only**_ one."

Santana swallows thickly at the bitterness of the blonde coach's words. She's just now catching a glimpse of how the coach was affected by what happened on Tuesday as well as how much pain she's in from losing her sister/best friend. Bitterness and anger are two things Santana can understand like a second language…well, a _**third**_ language in her case.

When her grandmother passed away nine months ago, those were the only two emotions that existed for her and she didn't have anyone to talk to since her parents were always at work and, days after the funeral, Brittany and her family went on a road trip to see the Grand Canyon. The only reason she didn't go with them was because she lied and said her parents were going to be home and she needed to spend time with them. In truth, she just wanted to be alone to wallow. What she _**really**_ ended up doing was get breast implants. Needless to say, the whole situation was a bit of a mess.

"It's okay to miss her," Santana eventually says in a sympathetic tone.

Sue says nothing at first but instead locks her ice-blue eyes on the Latina. "Nobody told me that it _**wasn't**_," she snaps irritably.

"Missing your sister doesn't make you weak," the Latina continues as though the older woman hadn't said anything, her own words coming from a place of understanding. "There are going to be times when you notice that her usual early evening phone call is already an hour late before you remember that it isn't going to come. There will be times when something crazy happens or you hear something interesting or funny and you can't wait to tell her all about it because you know how much she'd love to hear it…but then you remember that you can't," her voice lowers to just over a whisper as she feels tears come unbidden to the corner of her eyes. "You'll miss her hugs and her unconditional love and you'll find yourself wishing for more time, even if it's only 10 seconds," she releases a quivering sigh.

Sue's former scowl has softened significantly by this point. "Thank you," she says, almost too quiet to be heard. She stands and picks up her empty plate to bring to the kitchen. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a speech to write," she tells the teen, waiting on the girl to nod in understanding before retreating upstairs to her room.

Santana sits there for a moment before deciding to go online and watch _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ to try and get herself in the right mindset for tomorrow's meeting with the glee club.

* * *

**7:57am**

Her leg anxiously bouncing up and down as she checks the time on her phone, Santana worries her bottom lip and tries to suppress the sting of embarrassment and rejection. Though it was agreed that New Directions would meet her here at 8:00, she at least expected the perpetually punctual Rachel Berry to have been here by now since she's typically at least 10 minutes early to everything _**else**_. Even worse, Santana frets, is the fact that Brittany isn't here either and that makes her feel like she's some kind of a joke.

Forcing her leg to still, she slumps her shoulders and leans forward with her elbows on her knees. Santana stares down at the battered, closed shoe box sitting on the floor slightly in front her feet, which are crossed at the ankle and bent under the chair. She drags her left foot out from under the chair and nudges the box lightly, but petulantly, with her shoe as if she's blaming it on her current situation.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Santana concedes that this whole thing was probably a stupid idea on her part anyways. She shakes her head at herself for thinking that she could expect them to willingly subject themselves to the highly probable likelihood of being verbally and/or physically abused by her. Of course they bailed…and Brittany got too caught up with whatever they decided on to think to text Santana. Well, unless the others hijacked the blonde's phone to prevent her from letting Santana know.

An almost imperceptible creak pulls Santana from her increasingly negative thoughts as she looks up at the heavy door leading into the relatively small room. Her brows furrow momentarily at the unexpected intrusion…at least until a head of blonde hair tentatively appears from behind the door. Blue eyes scan the room until they land on the Latina, staring curiously back. The blonde's face immediately lights up as she opens the door fully and steps in.

As loathe as she is to admit it, Santana still experiences the same pleased, blissful feeling warming her from the inside at Brittany's smile of pure happiness being directed at Santana and Santana alone. If Brittany's still able to smile at her like that after everything that's happened, the brunette is almost willing to believe that maybe things will work out after all. The moment between them lasts for barely two seconds before the rest of the glee club begins to file in behind her.

The chaplain had been kind enough to leave plenty of chairs out for them so they wouldn't have to waste time un-stacking and placing them when they came in. They are arranged in a semi-circle at the front of the room. Knowing that she'd have to sit next to at least one person, Santana unsurprisingly claimed the one on the left side of the slightly raised platform with the podium on it. This way she'll only have someone sitting next to her only on her right side.

It isn't even the fact that the others are clearly avoiding the chairs closest to Santana that bothers the Latina. She can deal with that, it's actually both welcome and preferred. What is agitating her more than anything is the way they're looking at her. Scorn, fear, envy and lust are all the expected forms of expression as well as the only acceptable ones as well. But these shy, sad and/or sympathetic looks the others keep shooting her are really starting to grate on her last nerves as evidenced by her ever-darkening gaze on the most egregious offenders.

Santana relaxes ever-so-slightly and drops her gaze to the floor when the seat next to her is taken. She is not the least bit surprised to see the mismatched socks peeking out from a pair of gaudy creamsicle orange, lime green and white Converse with neon pink shoelaces…untied. They look like rainbow sherbet and she can't help but smile softly to herself despite the fact that they hurt her eyes.

The Latina glances up in mild surprise when she feels two warm hands on her arm, one lightly around her right wrist and the other on the hand itself. She hadn't even realized that she had her hand fisted around the denim of her jeans until she feels Brittany's fingers gently easing open her fist and lacing their fingers together.

"Hi," Brittany smiles weakly, not sure if this is okay or if the other girl is about to pull away from her again.

Santana, sensing her insecurity – as well as all the eyes fixed on them – shifts uncomfortably but lightly squeezes the blonde's hand before offering a slight smile. "Hi," she shyly returns the greeting.

"Seriously?" From the other side of Brittany, Quinn chuckles out a scoff at the pair tiptoeing around one another again.

Another glee member on the other side of the semi-circle pointedly clears her throat, saving Quinn from the potentially fatal glare she was about to receive from Santana. The trio's attention fixes on the speaker at the same time as she stands up from her chair. "Well Santana, I for one am pleased to see you back and…" Rachel falters slightly in her mini-speech upon seeing the confused look on the other brunette's face, "...I think I speak for all of us when I express how sorry I-"

"No," Santana interrupts with a deep scowl and a hand held up to stop the girl from continuing, Rachel's teeth audibly clicking at the force with which her jaws snaps shut. "One, I am here to plan Jean Sylvester's funeral service and _**not**_ because I'm coming back to glee," she begins.

"But I thought-"

"Two," Santana interrupts Kurt as she holds up two fingers, "I am not talking about anything with any of you unless it directly involves planning this. And three," she holds up three fingers this time, mostly for the benefit of a lost-looking Finn, "Even if I _**did**_ want to talk about _**anything**_, it certainly wouldn't be with any of you," she snarks disdainfully. She desperately wants to cross her arms over her chest and bob her head in challenge, but she can't cross her arms if Brittany has a hold of one of her hands and, well, the head bob doesn't exactly work if your arms aren't crossed.

A moment passes as she waits for everyone to nod in acceptance of her words. Satisfied, she drops her scowl and tilts her head inquisitively at the boxes Finn and Kurt carried in with them. "Now, what's in the boxes?" She asks. To her surprise, the other's briefly shift their attention to Brittany.

"Oh, _Willy Wonka_!" Brittany announces after realizing why the others were looking at her. Everyone stares at her, dumbfounded and wondering what conversation she was in the middle of in her head…except Santana, who smiles slightly in understanding.

"What did you end up finding?" Santana asks, knowing that the other girl had figured exactly where she had been wanting to go with the service when she gave her the movie yesterday. She gets right to the point without thinking it necessary to explain the volumes of information that they don't bother verbalizing since they can already read it in each other. Needless to say, the others are even more lost than before.

"There were some of those fake giant mushroom things that were left over from that play about the fairytales," Brittany informs her, feeling proud when Santana seems pleased with her answer.

"That's actually kind of perfect," the darker girl acknowledges as she thinks back to the scene of the movie with the song she wants to do. There were those mushrooms with that marshmallow crème-looking stuff in them.

Rachel raises her hand but stands up and begins speaking before anyone can actually call on her. "If I may interject-"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Mercedes cuts off the petite diva before she can spend the next 90 seconds asking the same question.

"_Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_," the two say at the same time. Santana clears her throat.

"It was Jean's favorite movie," the Latina clarifies and gradually – for some more slowly than others – understanding sinks in.

"I'm not really sure if that Oompa Loompa song is really a good choice for a funeral," Finn hesitantly speaks up, surprised that no one else has seen how inappropriate that is. His opinion is promptly rewarded with a smack to the back of the head from Quinn.

"They're talking about _Pure Imagination_, you caveman," Kurt huffs indignantly at his stepbrother. No one really pays much mind to Finn's muttered 'oh, right'.

"Okay Santana," Quinn begins, "now you know what's in our boxes so I think it's time for you to show us what's inside _**your**_ box," she finishes with a pointed look at the shoebox by Santana's feet. The Latina simply arches an amused brow at the wording but she doesn't get the chance to say…

"Wanky," Brittany blurts with a grin, catching the amused look on the Latina's face before the other girl manages to unclasp their joined hands and lean down to pick up the box.

"Some of these were in Jean's room and the rest I got from Sue's house," Santana preemptively explains as she takes the lid off and puts it on the bottom of the box, handing it to Brittany to look through then pass around.

"Photographs?" Quinn questions as she looks into the box when Brittany hands it to her.

"Yeah, photos of Jean. There are a lot with her and Sue or friends or whatever," Santana explains with a slight shrug.

Kurt gives Santana a quizzical stare, barely glancing in the box when it reaches him. "How did you get pictures from Coach Sylvester's house?" He asks her suspiciously.

The question catches the Latina off guard, her eyes briefly flitting to the two blondes on her right, mildly surprised that the two didn't mention that she is now staying with Sue for the time being. "She gave them to me," she answers after a moment.

"This is all interesting and stuff, but what does this have to do with the service?" Puck blurts out in his typically tactless manner, not really caring about the pictures as he passes the box without even looking at it.

Santana rolls her eyes and swallows the scathing – and probably counterproductive – retort sitting on the tip of her tongue when she feels a familiar pinky linking with hers again. She settles for giving the boy with a Mohawk (or possibly a dead rodent on his head) a disapproving look at his disrespectful attitude considering the reason why they're here in the first place. Satisfied when he averts his gaze with a contrite expression on his face, she turns to glancing between Artie and Lauren.

"Actually, I was hoping that the AV club might be able to put together a slide show or something with the pictures that we could play during the song," she states, but it sounds more like a question.

Artie knows that the statement is directed more towards Lauren than himself considering the other girl is the President of the club. Still, with the anxious look on the Latina's face, he can't help but believe that her interest in helping with the service is entirely genuine rather than as a means to spy on the club or suck up to Sue. He can't even begrudge the girl for having the ever- delightful Brittany by her side, watching Santana with the same purely adoring and sweetly enamored look that she's always reserved for the surly brunette that he's certain both girls are completely oblivious too.

"I think that's a really good idea," Artie expresses his opinion on the matter, flushing when the two girls glance his way. Brittany's resulting smile is soft and it's almost like she's telling him that she won't shoot him down with a hard (or hurt) look before storming away the next time he asks her to forgive him for the things he said during their breakup. Santana's expression is one of extreme shock at him actually saying something positive in regards to her before morphing into a small and grateful smile.

"Yeah, sure," is Lauren's eventual response, nonchalant as ever. Since the Latina stopped bothering to pretend she was the least bit attracted to Puckerman, she stopped having a problem with the Cheerio captain. She'd never admit it, but given the things she knows and has recently learned about the Latina (so what if she has the choir room bugged and maybe accidentally overheard Brittany telling Quinn about Satan's secret philanthropic Christmas behavior…and what she had to deal with to make it happen), Lauren acknowledges that she kind of respects the girl a little bit. But just a little.

"Thank you," Santana says quietly, sounding almost shy as she bites her bottom lip. "Aside from actually practicing, all that's left is for me to sort out the music-"

"I already got the school's jazz band to agree and I dropped the sheet music off with them yesterday after school," Brittany chirps proudly, her mood the lightest it's been since the whole duet thing back in October.

It's incredible how she and Santana seem to gravitate to one another and naturally slip into the familiarity of their touches and glances and overall behavior around each other. They don't even have to think about it, it's unconscious…like it's just ingrained into their DNA to be with each other.

"Thanks," Santana murmurs to the other girl, the word soft and almost sounding embarrassed but one look in those dark, fathomless eyes and Brittany can read the awe and adoration reflected back at her. That's all the blonde really needs…for now. For now, she can be okay with that because it's enough to reinforce her feelings and give her the patience and courage she needs when it comes to dealing with Santana.

"Excuse me but could one of you please explain?" A confused and slightly aggravated Rachel interrupts the girls' moment as she holds up a photo in particular. Santana blanches because she knows exactly what picture it is, even at this distance. She could have sworn she's set that photo aside so it wouldn't end up in the box.

It was Jean's last birthday party, May of last year. Jean was wearing one of those paper 'Happy Birthday' hats that look like an upside down ice cream cone. She was sitting at Sue's dining room table next to a frail Clara Lopez whose grin was so big and genuine that her warm honey-brown eyes were shining like gold. Sue, Santana and Brittany were standing behind the seated pair while Sue's cleaning-lady-of-the-week snapped the shot of Jean blowing out the candles of her cake, the other four smiling genuinely. Sue and Brittany had to lean down slightly due to their height so as to be included in the shot. The older woman has a hand on Jean's shoulder and the other on Santana's to keep herself steady. Brittany had a hand on Mrs. Lopez' shoulder and her other arm wrapped around Santana's back, her fingertips are barely visible just under the Latina's right breast in the photo. Santana, the only one having contact with all four of the others, had a hand resting on one of both Jean's and Clara's shoulders.

That was the only time Brittany had ever seen Coach Sue smile. It was also the last time she saw Santana so happy, smiling so openly and honestly…not that there were many of those times prior to that in the first place. Clara Lopez died less than three weeks after that picture was taken. Jean Sylvester died almost three weeks before her 53rd birthday, almost exactly a year to the day since that the photo was taken.

"My grandmother and Jean were both residents here," is all Santana is willing to divulge.

"I didn't know your grandmother lived here," Finn chimes in with his usual big, dumb smile.

"Why would you?" Quinn scoffs at the boy, crossing her arms and choking back her own curiosity.

"She's not here anymore," Brittany attempts to lead away from the topic.

"Did she move?"

Brittany swears that, had she been sitting closer to the oafish football player, she would've hit him herself…thankfully Quinn did so without Brittany even needing to ask her.

"She died three weeks after that photo was taken," Santana explains stiffly, hoping that they get the hint and move along in the conversation.

It works.

**12:15pm**

After ironing out some more of the minor details and figuring out the solos for _Pure Imagination_, the jazz band arrived around 10:00am. They'd been able to get enough practice in for them to smooth out a lot of the rough edges of the performance. It had been unanimously decided amongst the group that they were good for the day and they would reconvene before the service tomorrow to do another run-through or two before people start to arrive.

As she's putting up the chairs, Santana tries not to acknowledge Quinn and Brittany are helping straighten up the room as an obvious excuse to hang back as everyone else is dispersing.

"So, how have you been?" Quinn softly asks once the last of the other glee clubbers have left. Today is the first time she's seen the other girl since she was taken out of the ambulance on Tuesday and still unconscious. This is the first time she's seen the other girl awake and alert since Monday at school.

Santana's shoulders drop as she huffs out a heavy sigh through her nose before turning to the two blondes and folding her arms across her chest. "I've been better," she says obviously with an eyebrow arched up, unimpressed by the attempt at small talk.

"Santana," Quinn breathes out in mild exasperation.

The Latina rolls her eyes and drops her arms. "Look, what do you expect me to say? Physically I feel like I'm pretty much back to normal…but everything else?" She shrugs and shakes her head slightly. "It sucks to go from the hospital to living with Sue to planning the funeral service for her sister," she states honestly.

"How _**is**_ Sue?" Brittany asks before Quinn can step back in and attempt to play therapist again.

"Oh, you know Sue," Santana chuckles humorlessly. "She's acting like she isn't the least bit affected and that losing her sister and best friend isn't crushing her," she says with a great deal of sympathy seeping into her tone, more than Quinn would've expected.

"Has she been…nice to you?" Quinn grimaces a little at her choice of words regarding the notoriously tyrannical Cheerio coach.

"There's been no name-calling or insults on either of our parts," Santana offers even though it doesn't exactly answer the question. "We had a five minute conversation yesterday before she holed herself up in her room to write her speech for tomorrow," she elaborates to appease their curiosity.

There is a brief silence where Santana waits in mild irritation and discomfort for one of them to ask another question she doesn't want to answer while Quinn tries to think of another question that she's been mulling over. Brittany is just looking for a way to break the tension and spend some time with Santana, either with or without Quinn. It will certainly make it a lot easier to sing that song for Santana on Monday if she had a better idea of where they stand with each other. Even though they're reverted back to their usual casual touches and sitting next to each other again, things probably won't be like this after the service and somewhere where they aren't meant to be grieving.

"What are you doing now? Quinn and I were thinking of heading to the Lima Bean for tea and coffee and food. Wanna come with?" Brittany asks optimistically, bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation as she waits for the other girl to answer. She patently ignores the look Quinn is shooting her that clearly states 'I agreed to no such thing'.

Santana offers the taller blonde a tight smile at the offer and, just from that look, Brittany stops bouncing because she already knows the answer. "I can't. I told Sue I'd be back by 1:00," she rolls her eyes slightly at the rule.

"Well, you still have some time," Quinn points out, deciding to play Devil's advocate to Brittany for a change.

"I still have to talk to Charlie before I go…Reverend Townsend," Santana states, explaining who he is when she notices the confused look on Quinn's face. "And I also need to pick up apple juice on the way back," she adds.

"Oh," a deflated Brittany replies in disappointment. "Maybe some other time?" She questions hopefully.

"Yeah Britt, maybe some other time," Santana forces out with another strained smile. She doesn't want to be mean to the blonde, but she also can't help but feel uncomfortable with her after all the things she said to her on Monday. It's like Brittany is pretending it never happened and, while Santana knows they'll have to talk about it eventually, she'd really rather avoid that conversation forever.

"We'll see you tomorrow Santana," Quinn finally cuts short the awkward silence beginning to descend upon them again. She knows there is plenty that needs to be discussed between the three of them – most of it between just Brittany and Santana, specifically – but this is neither the time nor the place to do that.

"Bye 'Tana," Brittany reluctantly says with a small smile, resisting the urge to hug her or give her a kiss on the cheek (or lips).

"Bye," Santana echoes, watching as they turn and head towards the door. There is something else bubbling up and she has no idea what it is until she's already speaking. "And thanks for getting my stuff together and put away at Sue's," she blurts out before they leave.

Both blondes turn around and smile slightly at her. "It was no problem," Brittany replies on their behalf. She and Quinn turn around after a beat and leave.

Santana takes a moment to gather herself before going to find the chaplain before she leaves as well. She knows todays is going to be a long day leading up to tomorrow and, after that, her return to school on Monday morning.

* * *

**Sunday – 9:50am**

Taking a deep breath to psych herself up, Sue Sylvester takes a moment to check over her perfectly clean and pressed tailored black pantsuit and the pale pink collared shirt underneath. Satisfied with her appearance and no longer able to find an excuse to stall, she enters into the main lobby of the nursing home. With a nod of acknowledgement towards the woman behind the desk, she makes a left down the first hall and slows down when she finds William Schuester, Brittany Pierce and, of course, Santana Lopez seated on the two wooden benches outside the door to the chapel.

The two girls are seated together on the bench facing the chapel door, albeit with a significant amount of space between them. William is facing the pair and Sue has no doubt that he is the source of the visibly awkward silence between the three of them. Sue is at least somewhat grateful that the show choir director had the sense to cut back on the greasy hair salve he typically marinates his scalp in. She expected the glare from the overhead fluorescent lighting reflecting off his hair to be far worse than what it is.

Santana is the first to spot Coach Sylvester approaching and she is on her feet almost instantly to meet the older woman…and escape the uncomfortable silence and occasional cheesy smile from her teacher. What the older man seems to think passes an 'encouraging' smile actually has the opposite effect and is really, in fact, mostly creepy and obnoxious and almost seems to invite you into wanting to punch it off his face.

"Hi," is all Santana can really think to say now that the other woman has arrived.

Sue nods stiffly in greeting, her gaze drifting to the blonde that followed Santana over as soon as she saw her move and is now standing slightly behind the smaller girl. Brittany's bright blue eyes are nothing but kind and understanding. William approaches the trio with a look of sympathy and mild pity. The Cheerio coach kind of wants to choke him with his tie to wipe that look off his face.

"Sue, hi," Will greets with what he thinks in an 'I am so sorry' look on his face, but mostly he just looks constipated. "I just…I'm just a little curious as to why you wanted the glee club to plan this and perform here," he inquires. The two teens internally roll their eyes at his inappropriate timing.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Sue meets his gaze. "I was afraid no one would show up and, as much as I hate to admit it, I knew that if the glee club was to perform then at least some people would come for the service," she tells him honestly before turning her attention to Santana and Brittany. "Did anyone show?" Sue quietly directs her question to the pair.

The two girls share a surreptitious look before looking back at the older woman. "It's a full house," Santana begins carefully, "Employees here at the home, other residents, their families," she lists off.

"Jean touched a lot of people," Brittany adds softly with a small, but gentle smile. Sue's eyes widen and her mouth hangs slightly agape at their words. "C'mon," she prompts her, nodding her head in the direction of the chapel.

Sue allows herself to follow the two teens, Will hurries to open the door for them. Once they pass the other teacher, she drops her voice so only the girls can hear her request. "Don't make me have to sit next to that man," she murmurs to the duo.

Brittany coughs into her hand to hide a giggle and Santana smirks but nods subtly as they reach the front row. Santana allows Sue to take the seat right on the end before sitting beside her and Brittany sits between Santana and Quinn, smiling kindly at the blonde on her other side and reveling in sitting with her side fully pressed against the Latina's. They hear some shuffling as Will finds a seat in the row behind them.

For a moment, Santana allows Sue to take in the almost whimsical way the front "stage" area of the room is set up. "We knew _Willy Wonka_ was her favorite movie," Santana begins, her voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough to draw Brittany and Quinn in as well. "She was so special to a lot of people, especially you, and we wanted her funeral to be special too," she explains with a shy, almost modest shrug as she averts her eyes.

"It's something to capture and express the joy of her life, not the sadness of her death," Brittany continues with a small smile.

It takes a moment for Sue to be able to find her words through the tears she can feel forming in the back of her throat. "It's lovely," she manages to choke out.

Any mutterings cease once the tall, gray-haired man steps up to the podium. His surprisingly warm dark gray-blue eyes sweep over the large gathering. Reverend Charles Townsend adjusts his collar and places a hand on either side of the podium.

"Welcome to the most…_**unusual**_ funeral that I have ever attended," the reverend begins with a barely-there twitch of a smile and garnering the same response from many in attendance. "Which makes sense because Jean was the most unusual person that I ever had the pleasure to spend every Sunday for the last 30 years with," he adds with a fond sincerity before glancing to the front row. "I think that Jean's sister Sue would like to say a few words," he says before stepping away to allow Sue to take the podium.

Sue takes a shaky breath and she pauses when a hand gently squeezes her upper arm. She finds Santana offering her an encouraging smile which allows her to focus on what she needs to do. With a grateful nod to her Cheerio Captain, the older woman steps up to the podium and carefully unfolds a couple sheets of paper. Her hands smooth the pages out in front of her before pulling her glasses out of her jacket pocket and putting them on. With a shuddering breath, she glances to the casket behind her, then back to everyone in front of her. After shuffling the pages and adjusting her glasses once more, she takes a deep breath and begins.

"I miss my sister. Every night, at 10:00 or so she used to call me on the phone and when I asked her why…she'd tell me that her body told her," Sue sharply inhales and exhales with a half sob, "she wanted to hear my voice," she finishes, her voice coming out high-pitched from holding back tears.

The typically strong woman breathes heavily, almost to the point of hyperventilation, from trying to keep from crying. Her right hand falls to hold against her lower stomach while her other hand clenches podium to keep from crumpling into a heap.

Not even aware of when their hands became interlaced, Santana briefly squeezes Brittany's hand with hers before letting go and quickly going to her coach's side. The Latina brushes the older woman's elbow lightly to get her attention. Sue turns her head to the other girl before shuffling over enough to allow the girl to take her place, her head bowing a little as she is barely able to choke back her tears

"I'll read it," Santana offers quietly, waiting for Sue to nod her head slightly for permission. She skims over the page to find her place before taking a deep breath and addressing the audience, her voice strong and projectin.

"'I miss my sister – the smell of her shampoo, the way she could always convince me to read her another book'," Santana's lips quirk in a slight smile with a brief huff of a laugh. "'When you love someone like I loved her'," she unconsciously looks up to briefly meet Brittany's gaze, "'they're a part of you. It's like you're attached by this invisible tether, and no matter how far away you are you can always feel them. And now, every time I reach for that tether I know there's no one on the other end, and I feel like I'm falling into nothingness.'"

Santana smiles slightly again. "'Then I remember Jean,'" she says, her tone lifting as she looks over to Sue, who is no longer crying, but her breathing is still shaky. "'I remember a life led with no enemies, no resentments, no regrets and I'm inspired to get up out of bed and go on. I miss my sister so much. It feels like a piece of me has been ripped off. Just one more time I want to hold her. Ten more seconds. Is that too much to ask? For ten more seconds to hold her?'" Santana's voice breaks, the last word is breathed more than spoken as she remembers her words to Sue the night before.

"'But I can't'," the Latina can hear the tears in her own voice as she puts her arm around Sue to bring her closer, "'and I won't and the only thing keeping me from being swallowed whole by sadness'," she releases a breathy, teary huff of a laugh, "'is that Jean would kill me if I did. So for now'," she takes a deep breath and reigns in her tears and nods, mostly just to herself, "'I'm just gonna miss her.'''

Before the final line, Sue watches Santana who is staring into the crowd and no longer reading. "'I love you, Jeanie. Rest in peace.'" Oblivious to the clapping, she follows the darker girl's gaze and, predictably, finds it settled on a certain blonde dancer in the front row. Sue offers a nod of thanks to Santana when she hands her back the folded speech.

As Sue takes her seat, Brittany gets up next to stand beside Santana and address crowd as the other members of New Directions assemble on the small makeshift stage, more serious and calm than anyone's ever seen her…except Santana, of course. "This was Jean's favorite song," is all she says before going to take her place in the group.

Brittany's eyes widen in surprise when Santana brushes fingertips lightly over back as she passes behind her to stand on her left side. The smaller girl's fingertips slide down the blonde's pale arm until Santana's arm hangs between them, pressed against Brittany's. With a deep breath, Brittany grazes her pinky along the side of Santana's, as if asking permission. After a moment of hesitation, Santana hooks their pinkies together while Kurt and Sam start the video of the slideshow the AV club put together.

"Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three," Tina speaks the intro of the song as the jazz band begins to play the familiar melody.

The song plays with Kurt, Tina, Finn and Artie taking the solo portions with the whole group singing the chorus. Santana somehow feels both out of place and right at home amongst the rest of the glee club. She knows that this is mostly to do with the girl on her right.

From her place in the audience, Sue keeps her eyes on the two girls standing together in the middle of the back row as they all sing one of her sister's favorite songs. For all of the good memories she has of Jean, quite a few of the more recent ones include her Cheerio captain and the bubbly blonde next to her. This is the first time in a while that she's seen the typically tense and angry Cheerio somewhat relaxed and content.

As the final notes of the song play out, Sue's attention settles on Santana and Brittany. Her gaze softens and her lips twitch in lieu of a weak smile. "Thank you," she mouths the words more so than she actually speaks them.

The glee club and the other attendees begin to slowly disperse. Sue simply stands and watches everyone interact while others come up to offer their own condolences for her sister. Seeing the way Santana and Brittany keep shooting each other non-subtle glances from across the room gets the wheels in the cheer coach's head turning. Thinking about how much happier Santana was when performing with the glee club (but mostly Brittany) helps an idea begin to form in the back of her mind. For once this is an idea that Sue knows, without a shadow of a doubt, Jean would whole-heartedly approve of.

First thing tomorrow morning, Sue needs to have a conversation with a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed dancer/former Cheerio.

* * *

Wow, you had some Brittany/Santana, some Sue/Santana and/or Brittany friendship-py stuff and Santana/New Directions. Also, pinkies again!

Yes, subconsciously when trying to pick a first name for Rev. Townsend, I immediately went with Charlie and 1.2 seconds later I realized that Charlie Townsend was the 'Charlie' in _Charlie's Angels_. I _**was**_ going to change it but then figured that I'd leave it since it's even more appropriate/funny with him being a reverend and with the 'Angels' in this analogy being the Unholy Trinity.

Just so you know, you don't have to worry about me abandoning this story, show or pairing...no matter how intent the writers seem to be on ruining it all. One reason this chapter took so long was because it was a pain in the ass to transcribe the funeral scene and replace Will with Santana in reading Sue's speech as well as replacing Kurt and Finn helping out Sue with Brittany and Santana. In other words…I was procrastinating.  
Another, and even more important, reason is that I have been working on a _**megaton**_ of other stories featuring this pairing. A lot of them are fairly well developed and have at least 2-3 chapters' worth of material already written whereas some aren't as far along yet.

Also, so, don't panic or anything but, unless the next chapter starts to run way too long, it will be the last chapter of this story. I _**do**_ plan to do a two-chapter semi-sequel taking place in the summer before Senior Year/Season 3. All I will say is that you should expect cheer camp, time machines and David Karofsky to play a role in the story.  
Anyways, next chapter I plan to bring back some characters that we haven't seen for a while: Brad and Santana's two loyal Cheerios, Cody and Jaimie. Also, since Santana will not be going to New York for the Show Choir Nationals, there will be only one or two scenes taking place there. Plus, Santana rejoining New Directions? Brittany rejoining the Cheerios? Why would either of them want to go back considering the reasons why the left their respective clubs in the first place? Right?

Any questions, comments, critiques or general praise regarding this chapter or anything in general can be delivered either via PM or a review below. Remember, if you ask me something in a review, I can't answer it unless you're logged in since I am apparently one of the only three people left on the planet that has no desire to be on Facebook or Twitter or whatever the hell else people are into these days…Oh, and I am not **_nearly_ **as old as that that sentence makes me sound.


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